RUTH       P  A  R  T  I  N  G  T  0 


LIFE  AND  SAYINGS      . 


MRS.    PAB.TINGTON, 


OTHERS  OF  THE  FAMILY. 


EDITED    BY 

B.     P.     SHII.LABER, 

OF     THE     BOSTON     POST. 


"  I  did  fynde  her  a  woman  of  manye  words,  yet  of  a  verie  pleasaunte  fancie  withal, 
ul  havynge  much  pood  counselle."  —  DOCT.  DICG  HIS  WORKS:  Lib.  cxl.j  Art. — 
Mistrcsne  Unis  Hyte," 


NEW   YORK: 
J.  C.  DERBY,  8  PARK  PLACE. 

BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON    AND    COMPANY. 

CINCINNATI:    II.  W.  DERBY. 

1854. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1854,  by 

B.  P.   SHILLABER, 
Tn  the  Clerk's  Ofllce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


STEREOTYPED    BT 

HOBABT   *   BOBBINS, 

SEW   ENGLAND   TYPK   AND   STEREOTYPE   FOfSDERT, 
BOSTON. 

PRINTED    BT 

JOHN  A    GRAY, 
!I5  &  97  Cliir  St. 


FRIENDS  OF  MRS.   PARTINGTON, 

WHOSE    FAVOR    HAS     ENCOURAGED 

THE  OLD  LADY 
IN     HER     ECCENTRIC     SAYINQ8, 

THIS  VOLUJIE 
is   "KESPECTIVELY"  DEDICATED. 


PBEFATOKY. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  once  declined  an  introduc- 
tion to  a  party,  because  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
introduced  to  any  one  she  was  not  acquainted 
with.  She  needs  no  introduction  now.  In  all 
parts  of  our  own  land,  and  over  the  sea,  her 
name  is  familiar  as  a  household  word;  and  "as 
Mrs.  Partington  would  say"  forms  a  tributary 
clause  to  many  a  good  story,  or  an  apology  for 
many  a  bad  one;  a  smile  attending  the  utter- 
ance of  the  name  in  evidence  of  its  appreciation. 
But  a  preface,  of  course,  is  expected ;  and  so, 
in  the  most  gentle  manner  in  the  world,  we  will 
tell  to  you,  reader,  a  little  story  about  the  origin 
of  the  Partington  sayings,  and  why  they  were 
said,  and  why  they  are  here  collected.  Per- 
haps you  have  guessed  it  all ;  but  it  is  well  to 
be  certain. 

In  the  first  place,  they  were  written,  as  the 
canine  quadruped  is  said  to  have  gone  to  church, 
1* 


VI  PREFATORY. 

for  fan,  —  for  the  author's  own  amusement,  — 
with  a  latent  hope,  however,  half  indulged, 
that  the  big  world,  which  the  author  very  much 
loves  and  wishes  to  please,  might  see  something 
in  them  at  which  to  smile.  He  was  modest  in 
his  hope,  and  hid  himself  behind  an  incognito, 
impenetrable  he  thought,  where  he  could  see  the 
effect  of  his  mild  squibs  upon  the  public.  The 
result  pleased  him,  and  he  kept  vigorously  blaz- 
ing away,  unseen  !  —  as  much  so  as  the  simple 
bird  that  thrusts  its  head  under  a  leaf  and  fancies 
itself  unobserved  !  —  until  they  have  arisen  to  a 
magnitude  that  some  people  might  deem  re- 
spectable. 

The  origin  and  object  of  the  Partington  "  say- 
ings "  being  thus  described,  the  motive  for  their 
collection  shall  be  confessed.  It  is  the  hope  that 
their  author  may  make  a  little  money  on  them. 
He  is  not  so  squeamish  or  pretending  as  to  talk 
of  public  good,  and  public  amusement,  as  his 
leading  motives  in  the  matter ;  but  if  these  can  be 
obtained  through  the  publication,  he  will  be  most 
happy.  The  author  confesses  to  certain  pressing 
contingencies  —  by  no  means  peculiar  to  him, 
however,  among  authors — that  would  be  relieved 
by  a  generous  return  for  his  outlay  of  time  ;  and 
that  his  pouch  may  take  a  more  silvery*hue  from 


PREFATORY.  VII 

the  circulation  of  his  book,  is  a  consummation 
devoutly,  by  him,  to  be  wished. 

This  motive,  so  entirely  original,  for  the  publi- 
cation of  a  book,  the  author  has  secured  under 
the  guarantee  of  his  copy-right.  There  might  be 
no  necessity  for  this,  where  all  the  rest  of  the 
author  tribe  are  writing  and  printing  from  higher 
motives;  but  he  pleads  selfishness,  and,  like  the 
old  lady  in  her  variance  with  St.  Paul,  there  is 
where  he  and  they  differ. 

Some  wiseacre  has  recently  made  a  discovery, 
of  what  we  have  proclaimed  from  the  outset,  that 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Partington  was  not  original 
with  us  —  that  Sydney  Smith  first  gave  it  to  the 
world.  Most  profound  discoverer !  But  the 
character  we  claim  as  ours  ;  and  whether  it  had 
been  embodied  in  Mrs.  Smith,  or  Brown,  instead 
of  Mrs.  Partington,  would  have  been  immaterial. 
Those  sayings  are  owrs,  and  we  venture  to  affirm 
that  Sydney  Smith  would  not  lay  claim  to  them 
from  the  fact  that  they  were  uttered  by  one  of  the 
same  name  as  his  heroine  of  the  mop.  Because, 
forsooth,  he  had  spoken  of  Mrs.  Partington's 
sweeping  back  the  Atlantic  with  her  broom,  would 
he  claim  the  illustrious  PAUL,  and  the  roguish 
ISAAC,  and  the  jocose  ROGER,  and  the  great  PHI- 
LANTHROPOS,  and  the  poetical  WIDESWARTH,  as  his 


VIII  PREFATORY. 

progeny  ?  We  trow  not,  even  though  others 
might  be  found  ready  to  do  it  for  him. 

The  reputation  of  Mrs.  Partington  belongs  to 
the  Boston  Post,  as  much  as  if  Sydney  Smith  had 
never  uttered  the  name  in  his  great  speech  in 
Parliament. 

The  character  has  been  drawn  from  life.  The 
Mrs.  Partington  we  have  depicted  is  no  fancy 
sketch,  and  no  Malaprop  imitation,  as  some  have 
thought  who  saw  in  it  naught  but  distorted  words 
and  queer  sentences.  We  need  no  appeal  to 
establish  this  fact.  Mrs.  Partington  is  seen 
everywhere,  and  as  often  without  the  specs  and 
cap  as  with  them. 

There  are  many  matters  placed  within  the  cov- 
ers of  this  book  that  the  sponsor  of  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton  has  written  beneath  the  inspiration  of  her  gen- 
iality, to  the  influence  of  which  alone  their  merit, 
if  they  possess  any,  is  to  be  attributed.  Her  por- 
trait looks  down  upon  him  now  as  he  writes,  and 
her  pleasant  voice  seems  inwoven  with  the  sou- 
chong smile  it  sheds,  and  seems  to  say, 

"PRINT  A   BOOK." 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  BIOGRAPHY,  .       ...  13 

Mild  Weather, 47 

The  China  Question, 49 

Sympathy, 50 

Paul's  Ghost, 51 

Ike  so  Tender-hearted,  ....  54 

Look  Up, 55 

A  Solemn  Fact, 57 

New  Remedy  for  a  Drought,    .  58 

"  Hear  that  Voice," 59 

Mrs.  Partington  Penned,  ...  60 

The  Soda  Fountain, Gl 

Giving  Reasons, 62 

A  Small  Trade, 63 

On  Locomotion, 64 

The  Largest  Liberty, 65 

Mrs.  Partington  in  Court,  ...  66 

"  Right  and  Left," 67 

A  Little  Truth  well  put,    ...  68 

Musical  Criticism, 69 

Life  on  the  Road, 70 

Fancy  Diseases, 72 

Daguerreotypes, 73 

That  and  That, 74 

Losing  by  Politeness, 75 

On  Politics, 75 

Beautiful  Reflection  Interrupted,  77 

Appointing  Inspectors,  ....  78 

Mrs.  Partington  at  Tea,    ...  79 

Sir,  you  owe  me  a  Cent,     ...  80 

Guessing  at  a  Name, 81 

Burning  Water, 82 


A  Striking  Manifestation,  .  .  83 
Ike  and  the  Elephant,  ....  84 

A  Substitute, 85 

Wholesome  Advice, 86 

A  Ghost  Story, 87 

A  Dangerous  Position,  ....  89 
A  Lesson  on  Sympathy,  ...  90 
How  Ike  Dropped  the  Cat,  .  .  91 

'Stopping  a  'Bus, 94 

After  a  Wedding, 9*5 

Mrs.  P.  in  the  Market,  ....  96 
Partington  Philosophy,  ....  97 
Filial  Duty  vs.  Washing-Powder,  99 

A  Serious  Question, 100 

Rather  a  Rascal, 101 

A  Bloomer, 102 

Power  of  Attorney,  ....  .104 
The  New  Dress  for  Ladies,  .  .  105 

Psychology, 107 

Matter  of  Fact, 108 

The  Cat  and  Kittens, 109 

A  Point  Settled, 110 

Moral  Training, Ill 

A  Little  Truth, 112 

Hair-dressing, 113 

Omnibus-riding, .  114 

Auriferous  Meditations,     .    .    .  116 

Ike  and  the  Oranges, 117 

Patriotism, 118 

Dull  Business, 119 

Antiquity  in  a  Shower,  .  .  .  120 
The  National  Epic, 121 


CONTENTS. 


The  Maine  Liquor  Bill,  .  .    .    .122 

Take  Things  Easy, 123 

Carried  away  with  Music,  .  .  124 
Mrs.  Partington  in  Trouble,  .  125 

Influenza, 12C 

An  Answer, .  12G 

Mutton  Custard, 127 

The  "  Religious  Test,"  .  .  .  .  128 
Mrs.  P. 's  Idea  of  Humor,  ...  129 

A  Great  Curiosity, 129 

Mrs.  P.  on  Extradition,    .    .    .130 

Irreverent, 130 

Indignation  Meeting,  ....  131 
How  to  get  out  of  an  Omnibus,  13G 
A  Literal  Construction,  ....  137 
A  Legitimate  Conclusion,  .  .  .  138 

An  Epigram, 138 

Question  Answered, 139 

The  Test  Refused, 139 

A  Wholesome  Lesson,    ....  140 

A  Bootless  Case, 141 

Perhaps  True, 141 

Old  Roger's  New  Hat,   ....  142 

Christinas  Reflection, 143 

Reflection  about  Mosquito?,  .   .  144 

A  Passable  Joke, 145 

A  Porcine  Exposure, 146 

A  Nave  in  the  Church,  ....  147 

A  Queer  Association, 148 

The  Pundit  Punned, 149 

Punch  in  the  Head, 150 

Matter  of  Fact  and  Sentiment,  153 
Commiseration  for  Clerks,  .  .  154 

The  Bouquet, 155 

Mrs.  P.  on  Ventilation,  .  .  .  156 
Our  Relations  with  Mexico,  .  .  157 

The  First  of  April, 158 

An  Inquiry  Answered,  ....  159 

Bailed  Out, ICO 

Have  you  got  a  Baby  1  ....  161 

A  Home  Truth, 162 

A  Seasonable  Pun, 162 


Varicose  Veins, 1C3 

Mrs.  P.  on  Vacation, 164 

Torchlight  Patriotism,  ....  165 
Mrs.  Partington  on  Suffrage,  .  166 

Down  with  the  Tyrant 167 

Mrs.  P.  and  the  Clerk,  ....  168 

Thanksgiving  Day, 169 

Peace  Inculcated, 172 

Human  Nature, 172 

Mr.  Steadfast's  Soliloquy,    .    .  173 
Mrs.  Partington  Ruralizing,     .  174 

Ventilation, 175 

Letter  from  Ike, 176 

Out  of  Place, 178 

Tender  Names,    ,  .  179 


Learning  to  Relish  It,  ....  180 
Phlebotomy  a  Disease,  .  .  .  .181 

Hirsute  Ornaments, 182 

Mrs.  P.  and  Probate, 183 

Domestic  Purity  Impugned,  .  184 
Did  it  Hurt  you  Much  7  ...  185 

"  Fare,  Ma'am," 189 

Paying  Promptly, 190 

"  Memento  Mory," 191 

Mesmerism, 192 

A  Slight  Mistake, 193 

Considerably  True, 193 

Old  Bull's  Concert, 194 

Angular  Saxons, 195 

Water  Gas, 196 

Mrs.  Partington  at  the  Opera,  .  197 
A  Slight  Misapprehension,  .  .  198 

Apollyon  Bonypart, 199 

Paul  and  Politics, 200 

A  Prediction, 201 

The  Dessert, 202 

Boston  Music  Hall, 202 

Trousseau  of  Princess  Wasa,  .  203 
Stock  of  the  Revolution,  .  .  .204 
Philosophy  of  Country  Health,  205 

The   Promenade, 20b 

Mrs.  Partiugton  in  the  Crowd,   207 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


A  Cereous  Matter, 208  [  On  Elocution,  .    • 265 

Ancient  and  Modern  Remedies,  209  .  Outrage 256 

Mr.  Slow  in  the  Moon,  .    .    .    .  210  |  Ike  in  the  Country, 257 

My  Little  Boy, 211  j  The  New  Year,  an  Allegory,    .  259 

My  Little  Boy, 215    The  Architectural  Black  Eye,  .  261 

Mrs.  Partington  on  Remedies,  .  219    Seeking  a  Comet, 2G2 


A  New  Instrument, 219 

Criticism 220 

Bleak  House, 221 

Admiration  for  Eloquence,  .  .  221 
Naves  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  .  222 
Mr.  Bisbee's  Confession,  .  .  .223 

Germania  Band, 227 

A  Good  Suggestion, 228 

Catching  an  Omnibus,    ....  229 


Benevolence  Unappreciated,     .  2G3 

The  Parting  Word, 264 

On  Ghosts, 276 

Stage  Companionship,  ....  277 
Mr.  Smith  and  his  Boy,  .  .  .278 
Mr.  Slow  upon  Moral  AVorth,  .  279 
Mr.  Slow  off  Soundings,  .  .  .280 
An  Editor  a  Little  Heated,  .  .  281 
Don't  Cut  it,  Miss, 282 


Ike  in  a  New  Position,  ....  230    Twenty-nine  Cats, 283 

Unpopular  Doctrine, 231  •  Signs  of  Matrimony 284 

Benevolence, 232  •.  Mrs.  Partington  on  Tobacco,    .  285 

Mysterious  Action  of  Rats,  .    .  233  •  Guitar  in  the  Head, 286 

Mrs.  P.  on  the  Mississippi,  .    .234    A  Singular  Fact, 286 


Provisions  of  the  Constitution,    235 

Severe,  but  Just, 236 

Mrs.  Partington  and  Piety,  .    .  236 

Bricks  and  Straw, 237 

Medallic  Prospects, 237 

Mrs.  Partington  Beating  Up,   .  238 

A  Dead  Shot, 239 

Shocking  Joke, 239 

Riding, 240 

Mrs.  Partington  Looking  Out,  .  242 
Foreseeing  Things  Beforehand,  243 

A  Sinuosity, 244 

The  Science  of  Fish, 245 

Eternal  Indebtedness,    ....  246 
Borrowing  Newspapers,    .    .    .  246 

Promising  Children, 247 

Forgiveness  of  Wrong,  ....  248 
A  Negative  Affirmative,    .    .    .  249 

Taking  Pictures, 250 

Precocity, 251 

Mr.  Thimble's  Mouse-trap,  .    .  252 
Mrs.  Partington  vs.  Cook-book,  254 


A  Hit  at  the  Times, 287 

The  Poor  Printer, 288 

Mr.  Slow  on  Grave  Topics,    .    .  290 

Paying  an  Old  Debt, 291 

Operatic  Rebuke, 293 


1  Smith  & 


.294 
.  296 


Old  Roger  in  an  Omnibus, 

A  Woman  that  One  could  Love,  297 

Introducing  the  Water,     .    .    .  298 

Rather  Funny, 300 

On  one  String, 300 

Seeking  the  Light, 301 

Judging  Virtue  by  its  Smell,    .  302 

Abuses  of  the  Press, 302 

Mouse-hunting, 303 

Star-gazing, 307 

Mrs.  P.  on  Mount  Vesuvius,    .  308 

The  Pic-nic, 309 

An  Excellent  Test  of  Affection,  319 
High-Dutch  vs.  Politeness,    .    .320 

Good  Taste, 321 

Old  Roger  much  Excited,  .    .    .322 


XII 


CONTENTS. 


Hare  Dun, 323 

The  Bear-skins, 324 

Awful  Dewy, 325 

A  Slight  Misapprehension,  .  .  326 
Peppercaso  Rebuked,  ....  327 
A  Remembered  Mistake,  .  .  .  328 
Mrs.  P.  and  Jenny  Lind,  .  .  .329 
The  Use  of  the  Aztecs,  ....  330 
The  Brazen  Nose,  ......  331 

Going  to  California 336 

A  Tough  Customer, 337 

Funeral  Obstacles, 338 

Excellent  Advice, 339 

Timely  Reflection 340 

Preparing  to  See  the  President,  341 

A  Church  Incident, 342 

A  Dry-good  Lesson, 343 

A  Glance  at  Poverty,    ....  344 

Slanderers 344 

A  Stormy  Season, 345 

Dietetical  Counsel, 346 

Mrs.  P.  Confers  with  Paul,  .  .  347 
Mrs.  Partington  at  the  Play,  .  349 
Breaches  of  Faith, 350 


A  Queer  Conceit, 350 

Mrs.  Partington  on  Colporters,  351 

Fourth  of  July, 352 

Seeing  the  Fireworks,    ....  353 

The  Telegraph, 354 

A  Story  for  Christmas,  ....  355 
Mrs.  P.  among  the  Animals,  .  365 
A  Leaf  from  Memory,  .  .  .  .366 
Peaceful  Cogitations,  .  .  .  .367 

Home  Missions, 368 

Old  Roger  and  the  Boarders,  .  309 

Bad  Tempers, 370 

Giving  Thanks 370 

A  Good  Deal  of  Truth,  .  .  .  .  371 
Political  Extravagance,  .  .  .  372 

Sleigh-riding, 373 

Hunk  for  the  Union, 377 

Leaf  from  Philanthropes,     .   .  378 

Training  Days, 379 

Life  —How  Curious  It  Is,  .  .  380 
An  Interesting  Fact,  ....  381 

New  Patents, 382 

Brief  Answers, 383 

Organs, 384 


BIOGRAPHY 

OF 

MRS.    PARTINGTON, 

BELICT  OF  P.  P.,  CORPORAL. 


AUL  PARTINGTON,  whose  name  is  im- 
mortalized by  its  association  with  that 
of  the  universal  MRS.  PARTINGTON,  a 
portion  of  whose  oracular  sayings  our 
book  comprises,  was  a  lineal  descend- 
ant of  Seek-the-Kingdom-continually 
Partyngetonne,  who  came  from  the  old 
country,  by  water  probably,  somewhere 
in  the  early  days  of  our  then  not  very  extensive  civiliza- 
tion. At  that  time,  people  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
putting  everything  into  the  papers,  as  they  do  now,  when 
the  painting  of  a  front  door,  or  the  setting  of  a  pane  of 
glass,  or  the  laying  of  an  egg,  is  deemed  of  sufficient 

consequence  for  a  paragraph ;  much,  therefore,  of  interest 

2 


14        BIOGRAPHY  OF  MRS.  PARTINGTON. 

concerning  the  early  history  of  his  family  is  merely 
known  by  the  faint  light  which  tradition  has  thrown 
upon  it. 

A  story  has  come  down  to  us  from  remote  time, 
through  the  oracular  lips  of  the  oldest  inhabitants,  that 
"  Seek-the-Kingdom-continually  Partyngetonne  "  —  ab- 
breviated to  Seek  —  was  troubled  in  the  old  country  by 
certain  unpleasant  and  often-occurring  reminders  of 
indebtedness,  yclept  "  bills,"  which  were  always,  like  a 
summer  night,  falling  due,  and  certain  urgently-pressing 
importunities,  the  which,  added  to  a  faith  that  was  not 
too  popular,  by  any  means,  at  last  induced  him  to  warily 
scrape  together  such  small  means  as  he  could,  and 
incontinently  retire  from  metropolitan  embarrassment  to 
the  comparative  quiet  of  an  emigrant's  life,  where  he 
might  encounter  nothing  more  annoying  than  the  howl- 
ing of  wolves,  or  the  yelling  of  savages,  — sweet  music 
both  when  contrasted  with  the  horror  comprised  in  the 
words  "  PAY  THAT  BILL  !  "  which  had  long  distressed 
him.  Here  the  voice  of  the  dunner  was  done,  and  Seek, 
under  his  own  vine  and  pine-tree,  worshipped  God  and 
cheated  the  Indians  according  to  the  dictates  of  his  own 
'conscience  and  the  custom  of  the  times. 

But  little,  however,  can  be  gleaned  of  the  early  sup- 
porters of  the  family  name,  save  what  we  procure  from 
the  ancient  family  record,  a  Dudley  Leavitt's  Almanac, 
on  which  agricultural  memoranda  had  been  kept,  and  from 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 


15 


the  memory  of  such  members  of  a  foregone  generation 
as  remembered  the  Partington  mansion  in  Beanville,  — 
of  course  before  it  was  torn  down  to  make  way  for  the 
new  Branch  Railroad. 


The  "  new  house"  as  the  mansion  has  been  called 
for  a  century  —  (see  the  accompanying  sketch,  drawn 
on  a  piece  of  birch  bark  by  a  native  artist) —  to  distin- 
guish it  from  some  old  house  that  had  at  some  previous 
time  existed  somewhere,  was  erected  about  the  year 

,  as  is  supposed,  from  the  discovery  of  a  receipted 

bill  from  Godffrey  Pratt,  for  "  Ayde  in  Rayse'g  ye  Nue 
Eddiffyce,"  which  bears  date  as  above,  and  likewise  from 
the  fact  that  a  child  was  born  to  the  erector  of  the  new 
house  the  same  year,  which  was  duly  chronicled  in  the 
ancient  Bible,  with  other  blessings,  and  the  word  "Howse" 
is  distinctly  to  be  traced  among  them. 


16  BIOGRAPHY   OF  MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

It  is  supposed  by  some  that  the  old  house  was  upon 
a  slight  hill  opposite  the  gentle  acclivity  upon  which  the 
new  house  stood,  and  fancied  outlines  of  an  ancient  cellar 
are  there  discernible  by  those  whose  faith  is  large  enough. 
But  a  younger  class  have  set  up  another  hypothesis : 
that  what  they  suppose  must  have  been  a  cellar,  was  in 
reality  an  apple-bin  ;  and  there  is  no  knowing  when  or 
how  the  point  will  be  determined. 

The  new  house  was  a  stanch  piece  of  work,  erected 
at  a  time  when  men  were  honest,  and  infused  much  of 
their  own  character  into  the  work  they  put  together ; 
the  beams  of  oak  so  sturdy,  that  Time,  failing  to  make 
an  impression  upon  them,  gives  up  at  last  in  despair. 
The  interior  of  the  mansion,  in  the  latter  day  of  its 
existence,  contrasted  gloomily  with  the  modern  houses, 
that  sprang  like  mushrooms  around  it ;  its  oak  panelling 
and  thick  doors  imparted  an  idea  of  strength,  and  the 
huge  beam  overhead,  beneath  which  a  tall  man  could  not 
stand  erect  in  the  low-studded  room,  showed  no  more 
signs  of  decay  than  if  placed  there  a  hundred  years  later. 
It  was  not  destitute'  of  ornament,  for  around  the  fireplace 
were  perpetuated,  in  the  everlastingness  of  Dutch  crock- 
ery, numerous  scriptural  scenes,  more  creditable  to  the 
devotional  spirit  that  conceived,  than  to  the  art  (or  artless- 
ness)  that  executed,  them.  The  house  was  intended  as 
a  garrison,  and  where  the  clapboards  had  chafed  off  were 
revealed  the  scarfed  logs,  denoting  where  the  loop-holea 


BIOGRAPHY   OF   MRS.    PAETINQTON,  17 

were,  and  the  leaden  bullets,  still  left  there,  which  Paul 
was  wont  to  dig  out  with  his  knife,  when  a  boy,  and 
make  sinkers  of  for  his  fishing-lines.  Many  a  story  that 
venerable  house  could  tell  of  ancient  warfare,  of  the 
midnight  attack  and  gallant  defence ;  but  it  never  told  a 
thing. 

It  was  in  this  house  that  •  Paul  Partington  was  born 
and  grew,  amid  all  the  luxuries  that  the  town  of  Bean- 
ville  afforded, — said  town  at  that  time  consisting  of  five 
houses  and  a  barn. 

In  this  house  he  was  married, — the  most  momentous 
act  of  his  life,  as  through  the  hymeneal  gate  came  upon 
the  world  the  dame  whose  name  we  are  delighted  to 
honor.  We  find  upon  the  fly-leaf  of  a  treatise  on 
calcareous  manures,  yet  sacredly  treasured,  the  following 
memorandum,  in  the  corporal's  own  writing,  significant 
of  the  methodical  habits  of  the  man  who  shed,  in  after 
life,  as  far  as  a  corporal's  warrant  could  do  it,  undying 
glory  upon  his  country :  — Married  this  day,  January 
the  3,  1808,  to  Ruth  Trotter,  by  Eev.  Mr.  Job  Snarl. 
Forty  bushels  of  potatoes  to  Widow  Green." 

There  is  a  blending  of  bliss  and  business  in  this  entry 
that  strikes  one  at  the  first  glance.  The  record  of  the 
sale  of  the  potatoes  in  the  same  paragraph  announcing 
his  marriage  to  Ruth  might  signify  to  some  that  they 
were  held  in  equal  regard.  But  we  see  the  matter 

differently.     The  purchase  of  Ruth  and  the  sale  of  the 
2* 


18  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

potatoes  were  the  two  great  events  of  that  important  3d 
of  January,  and  they  naturally  associated  themselves. 
So  you,  madam,  might  associate  the  birth  of  your  first- 
born —  the  most  blissful  moment  of  your  life  —  with  the 
miserable,  matter  of  the  death  of  a  lame  duck,  or  the 
blowing  down  of  a  pig-sty. 

Of  the  courtship  that  preceded  that  marriage  we  can 
say  nothing,  except  what  we  have  gleaned  by  accident 
from  the  old  lady  herself.  In  rebuking  the  want  of  sin- 
cerity of  devotion  now-a-days,  on  the  part  of  lovers,  she 
once  spoke  of  a  time  when  some  one  would  ride  a  hard- 
trotting  horse  ten  miles  every  night,  and  back,  for  the 
sake  of  sitting  up  with  her.  But  no  name  was  men- 
tioned. When  it  is  remembered  that  the  ancient  borough 
of  Dog's  Bondage  was  just  ten  miles  from  Beanville,  it 
is  easy  enough  to  guess  who  the  individual  was. 

Ruth  Partington  —  born  Trotter  —  came  amid  sub- 
lunar scenes  several  years  before  the  nineteenth  century 
commenced;  consequently,  she  is  older  than  1800.  She 
was  a  child,  by  law,  for  eighteen  years  before  she  became 
a  woman,  and  performed  the  duties  "  incumbered"  upon 
her,  as  we  have  been  informed  by  her,  with  great  fidelity. 
We  have  often  endeavored,  in  fancy,  to  picture  the  Ruth 
of  Dog's  Bondage,  in  the  check  apron  and  homespun 
gown,  by  the  brook  engaged  in  washing ;  or,  basket  in 
hand,  feeding  the  yellow  corn  to  hungry  ducks,  emble- 
matic of  that  throwing  forth  of  gems  that  have  since  been 


BIOGRAPHY  OF  MRS.  PARTINGTON.       19 

scrambled  for  by  admiring  crowds;  or  seeking  berries 
in  the  woods,  crowned  with  wintergreen,  as  the  meed  of 
popular  approbation  surrounds  her  brow  in  the  latter  day 
of  her  existence  ;  or  engaged  in  incipient  benevolences  — 
as  binding  up  the  broken  limbs  of  barn-yard  favorites,  or 
protecting  the  songsters  of  the  marsh  from  predatory 
boyhood  —  fitting  fore-heralds  of  that  matured  benevo- 
lence which  embraces  the  world  in  its  scope  :  here  speak- 
ing the  consoling  word,  and  there  dispensing  comfort, 
mingled  with  catnip  tea.  In  fancy,  we  say ;  the  check 
apron,  homespun  gown  and  all,  are  but  the  stuff  that 
dreams  are  made  of. 

There  are  vague  reminiscences  of  things  that  have  past 
which  we  catch  occasionally,  when  souchong  has  released 
the  memory  of  Mrs.  Partington  from  the  overriding  care 
for  the  world's  welfare  that  would  fain  keep  it  home,  and 
we  roam  back  through  scenes  of  her  early  life  that 
breathe  of  rurality  like  a  hay-field  in  June,  or  a  barn- 
yard in  the  month  of  March.  We  have  tales  of  apple- 
parings,  and  attendant  scenes  and  suppers  ;  of  huskings 
full  of  incident  and  red  ears,  and  resonant  with  notes  the 
sweet  import  of  which  Mrs.  Partington  can  well  tell ;  and 
jolly  quiltings,  great  with  tattle  and  tea,  and  moonlight 
walks  home,  with  the  laughter  of  mirth  mingling  with 
the  song  of  the  cricket  in  the  hedge,  or  that  of  the 
monarch  of  the  swamp  singing  his  younglings  to  sleep  in 
the  distance,  or  the  whippoorwill  upon  the  bough  ;  and 


20  BIOGRAPHY   OF  MRS.   .PARTINGTON. 

stupendous  candy  pullings,  with  their  customary  conse- 
quences to  broad  shirt-collars  and  cheeks  sweeter  than 
molasses ;  and  slides  down-hill  on  the  ox-sled  runners, 
in  winter,  that  the  boys  hauled  up  to  the  summit,  disas- 
trous at  times  to  propriety  and  health,  but  full  of  a  fun 
that  looked  at  no  result  but  its  own  enjoyment  —  the 
means  a  secondary  consideration.  And  there  gleams 
through  this  a  ray  that  reveals  early  loves  and  dreams 
that  had  an  existence  for  a  time,  to  be  swallowed  up 
eventually  in  admiration  for  that  embodiment  of  Avar  and 
peace,  Paul  Partington,  whose  flaming  eye  and  sword, 
upon  an  ensanguined  muster-field,  won  a  regard  that 
only  ended  in  Beanville,  when  the  name  of  Trotter 
became  merged  in  that  of  Partington. 

Tradition  —  which,  in  this  instance,  may  be  partly 
right  —  tells  of  rivalry  for  the  possession  of  the  belle  of 
Dog's  Bondage.  We  can  conceive  of  rivalry  among  the 
men,  and  envy  among  the  women ;  of  struggles  on  the 
one  part  to  gain  her  favor,  on  the  other  part  the  strug- 
gle to  lose  it  by  provoking  her  hostility.  Hostility  ? 
Herein  might  arise  a  question  as  to  whether  so  gentle  a 
being  ever  entertained  hostility  to  anything.  We  should 
be  false  to  our  object  —  that  of  writing  a  true  biography 
of  Mrs.  Partington  —  did  we  pretend  that  she  was  per- 
fect. We  would  take  this  pen  and  inkstand,  as  well  as 
they  have  served  us  in  our  need,  and  throw  them  in  the 
grate,  before  we  would  make  any  such  assertion.  But 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  21 

vre  must  say  that  we  never  heard  she  had  an  enemy,  and 
Tradition  —  that  grim  old  chap,  that  has  so  many  bad 
things  to  say  about  people,  and  so  few  that  are  good  — 
never  said  a  word  about  it.  Doubtless  many  a  rustic 
heart  beat  warm  beneath  a  homespun  coat  of  numberless 
years,  and  sighs  redolent  of  feeling  poured  from  beneath 
the  rim  of  many  an  old  bell-crowned  hat  of  felt.  But 
the  meteor  came,  —  Paul  swept  the  field,  —  the  heart 
of  Ruth  surrendered  with  discretion,  —  and  other  people 
stood  back. 

Great  was  this  for  Dog's  Bondage  !  The  sun  rose  on 
the  brightest  day  of  the  year  when  it  happened;  the  brook, 
that  had  frozen  up  previously,  immediately  thawed  out ; 
two  robins  were  seen  looking  round  for  places  to  build 
their  nests,  thinking  it  was  spring,  so  mild  was  it ;  the 
lilac  buds  almost  "bursted"  in  their  anxiety  to  notice 
the  occasion ;  and  old  farmers,  as  they  talked  to  one 
another  across  dividing  fences,  spoke  most  sagaciously 
about  the  extr'or'nary  spell  of  weather.  As  old  Roger, 
Mrs.  P.'s  cousin,  remarked,  when  he  heard  the  circum- 
stance, it  was  a  wether  very  like  a  lamb.  But,  as  we 
were  saying,  — 

Schools  were  not  so  common  at  that  time  as  now,  and 
as  there  was  none  nearer  the  Trotters  than  Huckleberry 
Lane,  in  the  Upper  Parish,  and  as  there  was  a  quarrel 
between  the  Upper  and  the  Lower  parishes,  old  Trotter, 
who  belonged  with  the  Lower,  felt  bound  to  stand  by  that 


22  BIOGRAPHY   OF  MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

section, — though  he  knew  nothing  about  the  quarrel, 
—  and  hence  Ruth  was  kept  at  home  to  receive  by  the 
fireside  the  domestic  accomplishments  nowhere  else  to  be 
learned,  and  drink  in  the  oracular  wisdom  of  the  venera- 
ble Trotter,  as  it  fell  from  his  lips  through  the  aroma  of 
pigtail  tobacco  and  hard  cider. 

Alas  for  Trotter  !  His  day  is  done,  his  pipe  is  out, 
his  cider  has  gone,  and  even  Dog's  Bondage  has  become 
a  name  obsolete  among  the  places  of  the  earth,  that  town 
rejoicing  now  in  the  more  euphonious  title  of  Clover 
Hill,  probably  from  the  fact  of  there  not  being  a  leaf  of 
clover  within  seven  miles  of  it. 

And  thou,  Dame  Trotter !  — famous  for  pastry  and  poul- 
try, beneath  whose  ready  skill  Thanksgiving  became  a 
carnival  of  fat  things,  whose  memory  yet  lingers  about 
the  olden  home,  now  in  stranger  hands,  with  the  fra- 
grance of  innumerable  virtues,  like  the  spicy  odor  of 
many  Christmas  dinners,  — thou,  too,  art  gone,  and 
Dog's  Bondage  may  know  thee  no  more  forever !  The 
Rev.  Adoniram  Smith,  who  preached  her  funeral  sermon, 
drew  largely  upon  the  book  of  Proverbs  for  illustrations 
of  her  character,  and  said  that  better  pumpkin  pies,  or 
a  better  exhibition  of  grace,  he  had  never  known  any 
woman  to  make  before. 

A  kind  heart  has  characterized  Mrs.  Partington  from 
her  childhood  up,  displayed  in  many  ways.  Her  benev- 
olence got  far  in  advance  of  her  grammar  in  her  early 


BIOGRAPHY   OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  23 

days,  and  in  her  sayings  at  times  are  detected  certain 
inaccuracies  that  some  people  are  inclined  to  laugh  at ; 
but  if  they  will  stop  a  little  and  see  the  yellow  kernels 
of  wisdom  gleaming  out  through  the  thickly-surrounding 
verbiage,  they  will  raise  their  hats  in  grateful  respect  for 
the  bounty  afforded. 

The  domestic  history  of  Mrs.  Partington  requires  a 
nice  pen  to  portray  it,  so  full  was  it  of  delicate  beauty 
and  delightful  incident.  Marriage  meant  something  in 
old  times.  It  was  no  holiday  affair,  donned  like  a  gar- 
ment, to  be  regarded  as  worthless  when  the  fashion 
changed.  It  grew  out  of  no  sickly  sentiment  that  had 
its  existence  in  the  yellow  fever  of  a  wretched  romance, 
as  unlike  true  life  as  a  cabbage  is  to  a  rose ;  or  the  sere 
of  autumn,  —  a  more  fitting  simile,  —  to  the  vernal 
spring.  It  was  a  healthy,  hearty,  happy  old  institution 
in  those  days,  was  matrimony,  and  people  jogged  along 
together  in  the  harness  of  its  duties,  as  harmoniously  as 
the  right  hand  and  the  left,  that  help  each  other  and  yet 
don't  seem  to  know  it,  so  natural  is  the  service  ren- 
dered, —  as  if  they  were  born  to  it.  And  as  the  right 
hand  or  the  right  eye  sympathizes  with  the  left,  so  did 
the  twain  thus  united  sympathize.  Duty  and  affection 
leaned  upon  each  other,  and  inseparably  strove  to  make 
the  home  hearth  cheerful.  It  became  pleasure  to  carry 
the  sweet  drink  to  the  thirsty  man,  in  the  field  a-mowing; 
or  to  bear  the  basket  of  luncheon  to  the  woods  where  the 


24  BIOGRAPHY    OP   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

red-browed  man  was  chopping  wood  for  winter ;  or  to 
patiently  hold  the  light  in  the  long  winter  evenings 
when  the  yokes  were  to  be  mended  or  the  harness  re- 
paired. And  it  became  pleasure  when  the  goodman 
went  to  town  to  stow  his  pockets  with  something  nice  for 
the  wife  at  home,  —  a  new  dress  or  a  new  apron,  —  the 
remembrance  of  whose  face  would  come  to  him  when 
away  and  hasten  his  departure  back.  It  was  that  remem- 
brance which  prompted  the  mare  into  an  urgent  trot 
on  the  last  mile  home, — though  she  couldn't  see  the 
necessity  for  it,  —  and  his  eye  looked  brighter  when  he 
saw  the  cheerful  face  at  the  window,  looking  down  the 
road,  and  shook  his  whip  at  it  as  it  smiled  at  him,  as  much 

as  to  say,  let  me  get  near  you,  and and  what  ?  Ask 

the  walls,  and  the  bureau  in  the  corner,  and  the  buffet 
where  the  china  was,  or  the  milk-pans  upon  the  dresser, 
what. 

No  jars  occurred  in  a  home  that  owned  such  a 
pair.  Can  the  right  hand  quarrel  with  the  left  ?  Can 
the  left  eye  cast  severe  glances  upon  the  right  ?  The 
home  where  a  true  marriage  exists  is  blest,  and  the  man 
who  finds  his  domesticity  cast  in  a  mould  such  as  we 
have  described,  may  be  called  happy  in  the  fullest  sense 
of  the  blissful  word. 

It  would  have  done  all  of  us  good  to  peep  in  upon 
fireside  scenes  at  the  Partington  mansion.  The  fire- 
place, with  its  wide  and  hospitable  arms  extended,  looked 


BIOGRAPHY   OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  25 

like  an  incentive  to  population,  having  family  capacity 
revealed  in  its  huge  dimensions.  It  was  a  brave  idea 
of  Seek  Partyngetonne,  and  when  he  laid  the  corner- 
stone of  the  Beanville  structure  he  had  visions  of  a 
posterity  as  numerous  as  the  leaves  of  the  sweet-briar 
bush  that  waved  by  his  door.  Alas !  how  were  those 
visions  verified,  as  a  few  generations  saw  the  line  of  Seek 
diminishing,  to  find  its  end,  at  last,  like  the  snap  of  a 
whip-lash,  in  one  little  knot. 

But  those  scenes  !  It  was  the  custom  of  the  corporal, 
in  the  long  nights  of  winter,  to  seat  himself  in  the  right 
.corner  of  the  old  fire-place,  while  the  dame  occupied  the 
other,  and  read,  by  the  light  of  a  mutton  tallow  candle, 
such  literature  as  the  house  afforded.  This  was  com- 
prised in  the  family  Bible,  an  old  and  massive  volume 
that  adorned  the  black  bureau  under  the  glass ;  a  copy 
of  army  tactics,  presented  to  Paul  by  a  revolutionary 
soldier;  and  a  copy  of  Dudley  Leavitt's  Almanac. 
These  were  read,  by  the  light  of  mutton  fat,  aloud,  while 
Mrs.  Partington  pursued  her  knitting  in  the  corner, 
nodding  at  times,  perhaps,  as  the  theme  was  dull  or 
familiar;  but  the  smile  always  rewarded  Paul's  effort  to 
amuse  her,  as  much  as  if  he  had  n't  read  the  same  things 
over  and  over  a  thousand  times.  The  small,  covered 
earthen  pitcher  kept  time  to  his  reading  often,  and  sung 
and  sputtered  upon  the  coals  between  the  old-fashioned 

dog  andirons,  as  if  a  spirit  were  within  struggling  to 
3 


26  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

throw  off  the  cover  that  restrained  it  and  escape.  Reg- 
ularly, as  the  hand  of  the  old  bull's-eye  watch  on  the 
nail  over  the  mantel-piece  denoted  the  hour  of  nine,  was 
the  book  laid  by,  and  the  mug  taken  from  the  fire  and 
its  steaming  contents  poured  into  the  white  earthen  bowl 
upon  the  table,  which  sent  up  a  vapor  that  rolled  upon  the 
dark  walls  like  a  fragrant  cloud,  and  made  the  room 
redolent  with  the  fume  of  the  "mulled  cider"  that 
smoothed  the  pillow  of  Paul. 

It  was  pleasant,  too,  to  have  a  neighbor  come  in  at 
times  and  spend  an  evening,  when  the  big  dish  of  apples 
would  be  brought  on,  and  the  sparkling  cider,  that 
snapped  and  foamed,  in  an  ambition  to  be  drank,  crowned 
the  board.  And  then  such  stories  as  would  be  told  of 
"  breakings  out,"  and  "great  trainings,"  and  "  immense 
gunnings,"  in  which  exploits  were  achieved  that  my 
veracious  pen  would  hardly  dare  recall !  And  the  old 
Indian  wars  would  be  fought  again  by  the  light  of 
tradition  and  the  above-named  tallow  candle ;  and  the 
tales  be  retold  of  revolutionary  valor  that  signalized  itself 
in  '76.  Perhaps  a  song  would  be  sung  commemorating 
old  times,  in  the  quaint  melody  that  knew  no  artistic 
skill  beyond  nature's  teaching. 

Mrs.  Partington,  as  the  presiding  genius  of  these 
scenes,  shed  the  radiance  of  her  presence  over  the  circle, 
as  the  sunflower  claims  eminence  in  a  garden  of  man- 
golds. Her  sage  voice  was  heard  in  wise  counsel ;  and  in 


BIOGRAPHY   OF  MRS.    PARTINGTOJST.  27 

giving  the  news  of  who  was  sick,  or  dead,  or  about  to 
be  married,  or  was  n't  about  to  be  married,  but  ought  to 
be,  she  was  at  home. 

The  time  we  speak  of  was  near  the  close  of  Paul's 
career,  before  the  sad  military  reverse  took  place  which 
broke  his  heart.  It  would  be  impossible,  in  the  small 
space  allotted  us,  to  describe  all  the  virtues  of  Mrs.  Part- 
ington.  It  were  best  to  make  an  aggregate  of  good,  and 
call  it  all  hers.  The  herbs  that  adorned  the  garret  walls 
in  innumerable  paper  bags,  were  not  gathered  for  her- 
self; the  balm-of-gilead  buds  and  rum,  that  occupied  their 
position  in  the  buffet,  were  not  prepared  for  her ;  but  at 
the  first  note  of  distress  from  a  neighbor  her  aid  was  ever 
ready.  She  was  the  first  who  was  sent  for  on  -important 
occasions,  when  goodwives  must  be  wakened  from  their 
beds  at  midnight ;  and  to  this  day  half  the  population 
at  Beanville  speak  of  the  benevolent  face  that  bent  over 
them  in  the  first  moments  of  their  struggle  with  exist- 
ence, and  gave  them  a  better  impression  of  life  than  after- 
experience  verified;  and  catnip  tea  and  safiron  became 
palatable  when  commended  by  a  spoon  held  by  her. 
She  knew  the  age  of  every  one  in  the  village,  and,  had 
politicians  not  rendered  the  word  hackneyed,  we  would 
say  she  had  the  "antecedents"  of  every  one  at  her 
fingers'  ends.  She  was  as  good  as  an  almanac  for  chrono- 
logical dates ;  and  in  the  matter  of  historical  incidents 


28  BIOGRAPHY   OF   MRS.    PARTINQTON. 

Dudley  Leavitt  and  Mrg.  P.  generally  came  out  neck- 
and-neck. 

She  bad  a  great  reverence  for  this  same  almanac,  and 
we  cannot  refrain  from  speaking  of  an  incident  in  connec- 
tion with  it.  She  put  implicit  faith  in  its  predictions, 
and  the  weather-table  stood  like  a  guide-board  to  direct 
her  on  her  meteorological  march  through  the  year.  One 
year,  however,  everything  went  wrong.  Storms  took 
place  that  were  not  mentioned,  and  those  mentioned  never 
occurred.  The  moon's  phases  were  all  out  of  joint,  and 
the  good  dame  sat  up  all  one  cold  night  to  watch  for  an 
advertised  eclipse  that  didn't  come  off.  For  a  long 
time  she  tried  to  vindicate  her  favorite,  but  at  last,  when 
a  "  windy  day"  predicted  proved  as  mild  a  one  as  ever 
the  sun  shone  on,  her  faith  wavered,  to  be  entirely  over- 
thrown by  a  cold  north-easterly  storm  that  had  been  set 
down  for  "  pleasant."  A  timely  discovery,  that  Ike  had 
put  a  last  year's  almanac  instead  of  the  true  one,  alone 
saved  the  credit  of  that  mathematical  standard  of  natural 
law. 

Her  domestic  virtues  were  of  the  most  exalted  kind. 
Cleanliness  was  with  her  a  habit,  and  every  windy  day 
was  sure  to  see  Paul's  regimentals  upon  a  clothes-line,  in 
the  yard,  dancing  away  with  a  levity  altogether  at  vari- 
ance with  the  rules  of  military  propriety.  A  spider 
never  dared  to  obtrude  his  presence  upon  the  homestead ; 
a  moth  never  corrupted  the  sanctuary  of  woollen  that  her 


BIOGRAPHY   OF   MRS.  PARTINGTON.  29 

3are  and  a  little  camphor  had  touched.  The  white  floor 
of  the  Partingtonian  kitchen  was  as  full  of  knots  as  a 
map  of  New  Hampshire  is  of  hills,  from  frequent  scour- 
ings,  and,  though  she  never  scoured  through  and  fell  into 
the  cellar,  like  the  Dutch  damsel  we  read  of,  it  did 
not  seem  at  all  improbable  that  such  an  event  might 
happen. 

But  her  benevolence  was  the  crowning  characteristic 
of  her  life,  developing  itself  in  a  thousand  and  more 
ways.  It  sought  to  make  every  one  around  her  happy. 
She  commenced  taking  snuff  with  an  eye  solely  to  its 
social  tendencies,  and  her  box  was  a  continual  offering 
to  friendship.  When  the  "last  war"  broke  out,  she 
headed  a  volunteer  list  of  patriotic  women  to  make  shirts 
for  the  soldiers,  and  gave  them  encouragement  and 
souchong  tea  to  work  for  the  brave  men  that  were  exposing 
themselves  to  peril;  and  she  scraped  Paul's  only  linen 
shirt — an  heir- loom,  by  the  way,  in  the  family — up  into 
lint  for  the  wounded  soldiers.  A  fitting  spouse  was  she 
for  Corporal  Paul.  Her  reputation  for  benevolence  was 
spread  all  over  the  land,  like  butter  upon  a  hot  Johnny- 
cake  of  her  own  baking,  and  her  currant-Avine  for  the 
sick  got  a  premium  for  three  successive  years  in  the  cattle 
fair. 

Alas   that  we  have   not  room  to  pursue  the  theme 
further !     We  must  take  a  flying  leap  over  many  inci- 
dents and  hasten  on. 
3* 


oU        BIOGRAPHY  OF  MBS.  PARTINGTON. 

When  Paul's  younger  brother,  Peter  —  the  Peter  that 
went  "out  West,"  in  his  youth,  whose  wife  joined  the 
Mormons  —  died,  he  sent  his  little  Isaac  to  the  care  of 


the  widow  of  Paul,  and  from  his  earliest  infancy  he  has 
been  her  care.  She  never  had  any  children  of  her  own, 
and  her  solicitude  is  earnestly  engaged  for  him.  He  is 
as  merry  a  boy  as  you  will  find  any  day,  and,  though  a 
little  tricky  and  mischievous,  the  first  beginning  of  malice 
does  n't  abide  with  him.  His  tricks  do  not  flow  from 
any  premeditation  of  fun  even ;  they  spring  spontane- 
ously and  naturally,  as  the  lambs  skip  or  the  birds  sing 


BIOGRAPHY    OF    MRS.    PARTINGTON.  31 

Whether  he  takes  the  bellows'  nose  for  a  cannon,  or  saws 
off  the  acorn  on  the  tall,  old-fashioned  chair  for  a  top,  it 
is  all  a  matter  of  course,  and  his  bright  face  knows  no 
cloud  when  rebuked  for  what  he  has  done,  but  he  turns  to 
new  mischiefs  with  new  zest.  Such  is  Ike.  He  is  now 
eleven  years,  just  upon  the  dividing  line  between  ac- 
countability and  indulgence,  —  beyond  which  boyish 
mischief  becomes  malice,  to  be  trained  by  the  magic  of 
a  leather  strap. 

Professor  Wideswarth,  a  member  of  the  Partington 
family — like  a  "  remarkable  case  "  in  the  paper  —  of  long 
standing,  has  associated  the  two  in  a  poem,  which  for 
sublimity  is  surpassed  by  Coleridge's  Hymn  in  the  Val- 
ley of  Chamouni ;  but  then  they  are  nothing  alike,  and 
parties  may  divide  on  their  respective  merits.  One  thing 
about  the  song,  —  it  is  authentic  in  its  details,  as  we 
have  heard  averred  by  the  old  lady  herself.  The  music, 
set  to  a  rocking-chair  movement,  was  very  popular 
when  it  was  first  issued,  and  the  editor  of  the  Blaze,  in 
a  complimentary  notice  of  it,  said  no  musical  library 
could  be  perfect  without  it.  The  poem  we  give  be- 
low :  — 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  AT  TEA. 

Good  Mistress  P. 
Sat  sipping  her  tea, 
Sipping  it,  sipping  it,  Isaac  and  she  ; 


32  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MBS.    PARTINGTON. 

What  though  the  wind  blew  fiercely  around, 

And  the  rain  on  the  pane  gave  a  comfortless  sound  ; 

Little  cared  she, 

Kind  Mistress  P., 
As  Isaac  and  she  sat  sipping  their  tea, 

And  in  memory 
What  sights  did  she  see, 
As  Isaac  and  she  sat  sipping  their  tea  ! 
.   She  turned  her  gaze  to  the  opposite  wall, 
Where  hung  the  portrait  of  Corporal  Paul  ; 
And  fancies  free, 
To  Mistress  P., 
Arose  in  her  mind  like  the  steam  of  the  tea. 

And  little  saw  she, 
Blind  Mistress  P., 
As  silently  she  sat  sipping  her  tea, 
With  her  eyes  on  the  wall  and  her  mind  away, 
That  Isaac  was  taking  that  time  to  play  ; 
And  wicked  was  he 
To  Mistress  P., 
As  dreamily  she  sat  sipping  her  tea. 

For  Isaac  he, 
In  diablerie, 

Emptied  her  rappee  into  her  tea  ; 
And  the  old  dame  tasted  and  tasted  on, 
Till  she  thought,  good  soul,  that  her  taste  was  gone, 
For  the  souchong  tea 
And  the  strong  rappee 
Sorely  puzzled  the  palate  of  Mistress  P. 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  33 

This  moral,  you  see, 
Is  drawn  from  the  tea 
That  Isaac  had  ruined  for  Mistress  P 
Forever  will  mix  in  the  cup  of  our  joy 
The  dark  rappee  of  sorrow's  alloy, 
And  none  are  free, 
Any  more  than  she. 
From  annoying  alloys  that  mix  with  their  tea. 

We  have  spoken  before  of  the  Partington  mansion 
having  been  removed  to  make  way  for  the  Beanville 
railroad.  It  was  taken  after  Paul's  demise.  He  never 
would  have  parted  with  it  thus.  He  would  have  fortified 
it  and  defended  it  while  a  charge  of  powder  remained  in 
Mie  old  powder-horn  that  hung  above  the  mantel-piece, 
or  a  billet  of  wood  was  left  to  hurl  at  assailants  !  But, 
alas  !  Paul  was  not  there  ;  and  his  amiable  relict  opposed 
but  feeble  resistance  to  the  encroachment  of  the  new 
power.  As  she  herself  forcibly  expressed  it,  "What  was 
the  use  of  her  trying  to  go  agin  a  railroad?  " 

It  was  hard  for  her  to  give  up  the  old  mansion,  en- 
deared by  so  many  recollections,  —  not  a  thousand, 
merely,  the  number  usually  given  as  the  poetical  limit, 
but  infinite  in  number,  for  they  embraced  all  of  the  days 
of  her  wedded  happiness,  and  the  companionship  of  the 
corporal. 

This  sketch  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Partington  would  be 
imperfect  were  we  to  omit  giving  a  brief  notice  of  the 


34  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

picture  gf  the  inestimable  lady  that  stands  as  our  frontis- 
piece. We  have  long  felt  that  an  admiring  public 
deserved  a  more  definitive  expression  of  her  than  could  be 
gained  from  the  mere  words,  however  wise,  that  fell  from 
her  oracular  lips.  A  sense  of  justice  to  her  innumerable 
merits  has  impelled  us  to  redeem  her  from  the  uncer- 
tainty of  mere  verbal  delineation,  and  here  we  have  pro- 
duced her,  the  fair  ideal  of  wise  simplicity. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  we  secured  this  boon 
for  the  world.  A  modest  diffidence,  that  fifty-seven 
winters  have  not  weakened,  made  her  unwilling  that  her 
likeness  should  be  thus  submitted  to  the  unsparing  gaze 
of  thousands.  In  vain  we  urged  many  illustrious  exam- 
ples of  like  martyrdom,  —  of  men,  who,  from  pure  phi- 
lanthropy, had  sacrificed  themselves  in  the  everlasting 
reproach  of  stereotype,  from  the  never-souring  "  Old 
Jacob"  to  the  meek  "Elder-Berry,"  blessing  the  world 
with  disinterested  benevolence  at  a  dollar  a  quart  bottle, 
six  bottles  for  five  dollars.  She  was  not  to  be  moved  by 
any  argument  we  could  offer,  and  we  were  about  to 
abandon  the  idea  in  despair,  when  the  strategy  of  Isaac 
effected  what  diplomacy  had  failed  to  accomplish.  Snugly 
ensconced  in  an  old  clothes-press,  by  Isaac,  for  three 
days,  our  artist  was  enabled  through  the  key-hole  to 
Avatch  the  varied  expression  that  flitted  across  her  time- 
worn  face,  and  his  genius  achieved  its  high  triumph  at 
the  moment  when  Paine's  gas  had  become  the  concen- 


BIOGRAPHY    OP    MRS.    PARTIXUTOX.  35 

trated  object  of  her  thought,  and,  oblivious  to  all 
external  scene  and  circumstance,  her  mind  was  grappling 
that  huge  problem,  in  a  vain  effort  to  get  a  little  light 
upon  the  subject. 

This  is  the  precise  moment  at  which  the  artist  has 
taken  her  —  impaled  her,  so  to  speak,  in  view  of  its  cor- 
rectness, on  his  pencil  point,  and  transferred  her,  still 
quick  with  life,  to  the  breathing  —  paper. 

The  faithfulness  of  this  picture  cannot  be  too  much 
admired.  We  have,  at  a  glance,  the  whole  character  of 
the  old  lady,  in  her  blessed  "  liniments,"  with  a  benigni- 
ty, like  a,  cup  of  Sleeper's  best  ningyong,  irradiating 
every  feature.  The  cap-border  crowns  like  a  halo  the 
brow,  upon  whose  lofty  heiglit  benevolence  sits  enthroned ; 
the  lock  of  gray  vibrates  tremulously  in  the  wintry  air ; 
the  specs  repose  tranquilly  in  the  abstractedness  of  medi- 
tation ;  the  pinned  kerchief,  in  modest  plaits,  enfolds  a 
breast  whose  every  throb  is  kindly ;  the  knitting- work, 
the  close  attendant  upon  her  loneliness,  has  its  position, 
and  the  busy  fingers,  in  diligent  competition,  ply  the 
gleaming  wires ;  the  ancient  chair,  "  sacred  to  memory," 
the  one  that  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  is  presented  in 
its  puritanic  uprightness,  and  at  its  back  hangs  the  "  ridi- 
cule," in  whose  mysterious  depths  dwelleth  many  a  rare 
antique,  that  the  light  of  day  hath  not  seen  since  the 
memorable  '  14  ;  upon  the  little  pine  table,  white  as  snow, 
from  frequent  inflictions  of  soap  and  sand,  are  seen  that 


3(5  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINOTON. 

snuff-box,  and  that  teapot,  the  little  black  one,  in  the 
respective  solaces  of  which  the  ills  of  life  have  found  miti- 
gation, and  grief  has  been  allayed  of  half  its  bitterness : 
the  amelioration  of  maccaboy  relieving  the  woes  of  widow- 
hood, and  sorrow  finding  cessation  'neath  the  softening 
influence  of  souchong.  Above,  upon  the  wall,  hangs 
Paul's  ancient  profile,  in  dark  rigidity,  like  a  soldier  on 
parade,  staring  straight  forward  at  nothing,  the  unbend- 
ing integrity  of  whose  dickey  stands  in  marked  contrast 
with  the  charcoal  of  his  complexion.  And  long  and  often 
has  that  profile  been  scanned  by  fond  eyes  in  vain  effort 
to  detect  one  line  of  the  olden  affection  that  warmed  the 
original,  or  dwelt  in  the  hard-spelt  character  of  Paul's 
epistles,  that,  well-worn  and  well-saved,  are  yet  treasured 
in  the  old  black  bureau-desk  in  the  corner.  And  care- 
fully the  sprig  of  sweet  fern  is  renewed  above  the  picture, 
every  year,  when  the  berries  lure  Ike  to  the  woods,  and 
he  comes  back  laden  with  pine,  and  fern,  and  hemlock, 
to  garnish  the  fire-place  and  mantel-piece  withal.  That 
handkerchief  has  been  preserved  as  a  sacred  relic  since 
the  corporal's  battle  days,  when  in  young  devotion  he 
laid  it,  blazoned  with  the  glory  of  the  Constitution  and 
Guerriere,  upon  her  lap,  and,  standing  by  her,  with  his 
artillery  sword  gleaming  in  his  hand,  vowed  by  its  edge 
that  his  love  for  her  should  divide  with  that  for  his 
country !  The  story  has  not  been  written  of  his  deeds 
of  arms,  of  his  "  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field," 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTOST.  37 

and  dangers  in.  the  imminent  deadly  breaches,  of  his  pa- 
rades in  the  artillery,  and  his  campaign-dinner  once  a 
year.  These  remain  to  be  written,  and  the  biographer 
of  Paul  Partington  shall  set  the  world  aglow  with  the 
recital  of  deeds  that  have  been  hid,  like  the  diamond  in 
the  ashes,  but  have  lost  no  ray  of  brilliancy. 

It  may,  however,  be  well  to  give  a  few  of  these  ex- 
ploits, as  illustrative  of  the  character  of  the  person  in 
whose  heroism  we  may  detect  an  influence  that  dates  from 
Dog's  Bondage ;  and  nice  discriminators  may,  by  close 
scrutiny,  see  therein  the  fusion  of  the  fiery  blood 
of  Seek-the-Kingdom-continually  Partyngetonne  —  the 
trumpeter  of  Oliver  Cromwell  —  and  the  gentle  outside 
current  that  met,  mingled,  ^nd  softened — the  veni,  vidi, 
vici,  of  conjugal  triumph  —  and  formed  no  merely 
bloody  warrior,  but  a  hero,  whose  sword  would  be  stained 
by  nothing  worse  than  the  mark  of  cheese  that  crowned 
the  board  of  war. 

When  the  news  came,  in  the  "last  war,"  that  the 
British  had  landed  on  the  coast,  although  nine  miles 
from  Beanville,  his  voice  waked  the  people  from  their 
slumbers,  calling  them  to  arms ;  it  was  his  plume  that 
was  seen  gleaming  in  the  light  of  the  stars,  as  he  dashed 
through  the  town  on  horseback,  urging  his  steed  on 
through  the  mud  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  an  hour ;  it 
was  his  warlike  skill  that  arranged  the  eleven  men  of 

Beanville  into  a  phalanx  of  attack ;  and  it  was  his  elo- 
4 


38  lUOURAl'HY    OP   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

quence  that  called  upon  them,  as  husbands,  fathers, 
patriots,  and  Christians,  to  fight  and  die  like  men. 
When  afterwards  it  was  discovered  that  all  the  alarm 
arose  from  seeing  two  men  in  their  boats  drawing  lobster 
nets,  the  merit  of  valor  did  not  depart  from  Paul  Part- 
ington,  and,  though  he  never  got  the  brevet  as  sergeant, 
promised  him  by  the  general  of  division,  yet  the  people 
honored  him,  and  the  battle  of  the  "  Bloody  'Leven," 
as  they  were  called,  formed  a  theme  for  gossip  in  the 
tavern  at  Beanville  for  many  a  day. 

When  the  call  came  for  volunteers  to  throw  up  fortifi- 
cations in  Boston  harbor,  he  was  the  first  man  to  enrol 
his  name ;  his  pickaxe  struck  the  first  blow  for  his 
country  in  this  service.  His  use  of  the  spade  rendered 
his  advice  invaluable  to  the  commanding  officer,  and  he 
could  tell,  to  a  fraction,  how  many  shovels  full  to  take 
from  one  portion,  and  how  many  wheelbarrow  loads  to 
put  in  another.  His  overalls  were  in  the  front  of  the 
fight;  his  arm  was  fearlessly  bared  in  the  encounter. 
11  But,  alas  for  his  country  !  "  he  got  a  grain  of  gravel 
in  his  eye,  and  had  to  go  home,  after  exhorting  his 
comrades  in  arms  to  dig  on,  and  giving  his  overalls  to 
one  who  needed  them.  He  was  afterwards  pensioned  for 
his  injury,  having  been  very  favorably  mentioned  in  the 
orders  of  the  day. 

But  in  the  muster-field  was  his  greatest  triumph.  The 
smell  of  gunpowder  he  snuffed  like  the  war-steed  from  afar. 


BIOGRAPHY    OF    MRS.    PARTINGTON.  39 

In  the  intricacies  of  sham-fight  he  was  at  home.  He  was 
always  selected  to  lead  the  forlorn  hope  in  an  attack,  and 
his  compressed  lips  and  flashing  eyes  were  precursors  of 
victory.  It  became  a  standing  rule  that  he  must  beat ;  but 
when  the  mad  sergeant  from  the  city,  who  commanded  the 
point  to  be  attacked,  wouldn't  give  in,  and  charged  home 
upon  the  corporal,  driving  him  back  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet,  whereby  he  lost  three  of  his  men  and  his  credit 
in  a  bog  through  which  they  were  compelled  to  pass, 
the  star  of  the  corporal  waned.  His  martial  spirit  de- 
parted from  that  hour.  Even  though  a  court-martial 
was  ordered  at  once,  and  the  sergeant  ordered  to  be  shot, 
—  which  fate  was  only  avoided  by  his  speedy  departure 
from  Beanville,  —  it  was  of  no  avail.  The  careful 
nursing  of  Ruth  availed  nothing.  He  took  to  his  bed, 
had  his  artillery  sword  and  cap  hung  upon  a  nail 
where  he  could  see  them,  and  lay  down  to  die.  The  skill 
of  the  country  doctor,  with  a  pair  of  saddlebags  filled 
with  medicine,  and  the  whole  pharmacopoeia  of  Mrs.  P., 
couldn't  save  him,  and,  after  making  his  will,  like  a 
prudent  citizen  and  a  good  soldier,  he  bade  the  world 
good-night,  and Paul  was  not. 

"  No  sound  can  awake  him  to  glory  again." 

He  was  buried  with  military  honors  by  the  Beanville 
Artillery,  who  for  twenty  years  voted  annually  to  erect 
a  monument  to  his  memory,  and  then  gave  it  up.  The 


40       BIOGRAPHY  OF  MRS.  PARTINGTON. 

poet  of  the  village,  in  anticipation  of  the  monument,  had 
prepared  an  epitaph,  which  we  subjoin  :  — 

"  Here  lies,  beneath  this  heap  of  earth, 
A  hero  of  extensive  worth, 
A  whole-souled  man,  full  six  feet  tall, 
Surnamed  Partington,  christened  Paul." 

The  parish  burying-ground  in  Beanville,  —  a  sketch 
of  which  is  here  subjoined,  —  is  situated  in  the  bend  of 


the  turnpike  leading  from  Clover  Hill,  —  and  it  is  a 
shrine  much  visited  in  the  summer  months  by  tarriers  at 
the  village  ;  for  all  that  was  Paul  Partington  rests  be- 
neath the  turf,  with  naught  but  a  tall  sweet-briar  to 
mark  the  spot,  standing  like  a  sentinel  on  duty,  armed 
at  all  points,  and  watching  the  slumber  of  the  hero  of 
the  Bloody  'Leven.  The  picture  was  taken  by  a  trav- 
elling artist  while  riding  over  the  turnpike  on  the  stage- 
coach, who  was  so  struck  with  the  picturesque  beauty  of 
the  scene  that  he  made  an  eight-rniles-an-hour  sketch 
of  it  in  his  portfolio. 

It  is  to  this  spot,  on  each  returning  season,  that  Mrs. 
Partington  comes,  —  by  virtue  of  a  free  pass  allowed  her 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  41 

by  the  Beanville  Branch  Railroad,  —  and  brings  Isaac, 
and  praises  the  ancient  corporal's  virtues,  and  tries  to 
incite  the  boy's  ambition  to  be  like  him ;  and  he  likes  to 
come,  for,  while  he  is  drinking  in  the  words  which  Mrs. 
Partington  imparts,  he  can  watch  the  chip-munks  on  the 
decaying  wall,  and  slily  shy  stones  at  birds  whose  confi- 
dence leads  them  to  approach  the  spot  and  twitter  upon 
the  mullein-stalks  that  grow  rankly  by  the  gate. 

We  say  naught  but  a  sweet-briar  tree  marks  the  spot. 
The  old  gravestone,  Avith  its  hard-faced  remembrance  of 
Paul,  has  been  carried  off  in  relics  by  modern  Vandals. 
Chip  by  chip  has  the  ancient  monument  disappeared,  that 
affection  paid  for  to  the  city  stone-cutter  and  placed 
here,  until  not  a  scrap  of  it  is  left.  The  ancient  stone 
of  blue  slate,  with  its  jolly  death's-head,  that  appeared 
as  if  quick  with  mirth ;  the  winged,  chubby  cherubs  in 
the  corners,  that  looked  like  babies  living  in  uncom- 
fortable fat,  like  doughnuts ;  the  simple  inscription,  in 
Roman  characters,  commemorative  of  the  Roman  virtues 
of  Paul,  and  the  quaint  epitaph  that  told  in  equivocal 
English  of  a  future  hope,  all  have  been  chipped  off. 

But,  thanks  to  art,  that  can 
restore  the  lost  and  create 
^at  wn^c^  never  existed,  that 

monument  is  before  us  for  our 
1353§£S!''i'- 

"5  admiration.  How  many  shocks 

of  elemental  war  has  that  an- 

4* 


42  BIOGRAPHY    OF  MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

liquated  block  of  monumental  sculpture  withstood  suc- 
cessfully—  standing  despite  the  snow  and  frost  of  winter ; 
or  the  tornadoes  of  summer,  to  be  carried  off  piece  by 
piece  in  the  pockets  of  encroaching  pilgrims !  But  there 
is  a  glory  in  the  idea  of  a  gravestone's  being  used  up  in 
breast-pins,  to  be  more  choicely  cherished  than  the  richest 
rubies. 

There  were  melancholy  days  in  the  Partingtonian 
mansion  when  Paul  stepped  out.  The  old  chair  stood 
by  the  right  side  of  the  fire-place,  as  if  waiting  to  be 
occupied ;  the  mug  simmered  in  the  winter  evenings 
between  the  andirons,  with  a  mournful  measure,  as  if 
responsive  to  the  wind  that  made  a  muss  and  hurly-burly 
about  the  chimney-top,  but  only  one  now  partook  of  its 
contents ;  the  regimentals  were  aired  upon  the  clothes- 
line, and,  inflated  with  wind,  seemed  at  times  like  the 
corporal  himself,  cut  up  in  parcels,  who  was,  alas !  to  fill 
them  no  more.  The  settling  of  the  estate  broke  in  upon 
this  dull  and  monotonous  existence,  and,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  law,  she  forgot  the  sorrow  that,  as  she  said, 
made  her  nothing  but  flesh,  skin,  and  bones.  The  re- 
mark she  made  concerning  probate  offices  is  recorded  as 
a  living  evidence  of  her  sagacity.  Some  one  spoke  to 
her  about  the  probate  proceedings  regarding  the  estate. 
"Yes,"  said  she,  "it  is  probe  it,  probe  it,  all  the  time  ; 
and  if  the  poor,  widowless  body  gets  the  whole  she  don't 
get  half  enough."  The  remark,  likewise,  about  doing 


BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON.  43 

things  by  attorney  will  be  remembered  until  it  is  forgot- 
ten: — "Don't  do  anything  by  power  of  eternity,"  said 
she,  "for,  if  you  do,  you  will  never  see  the  end  of  it." 
What  profundity ! 

But  the  estate  was  settled,  after  much  delay,  and  the 
farm  carried  on  at  the  halves  by  a  neighbor,  whose  hon- 
esty was  no  security  against  the  temptation  of  plethoric 
crops  and  opportunity.  The  hay  fell  off  in  the  accounts, 
the  recorded  corn  denoted  a  speedy  famine,  and  a  more 
disastrous  havoc  of  potato  rot  has  never  since  transpired 
than  assailed  her  crops.  But  this  sjtate  of  things  came 
to  an  end,  instead  of  the  farm  as  was  threatened. 

The  march  of  improvement  led  to  the  need  of  a  rail- 
road through  Beanville,  and  the  Partingtonian  mansion 
became  a  sacrifice  to  the  ruthless  spirit  of  progress,  that, 
all-grasping,  stops  not  at  anything  in  its  path,  whether  it 
be  a  homestead  or  a  hemisphere.  Mrs.  Partington  left 
Beanville  reluctantly.  As  she  herself  has  said,  it  was 
useless  to  try  to  stand  against  a  railroad ;  and  the  city 
offering  inducements  in  the  way  of  education  for  Isaac, 
the  legacy  left  her  by  the  brother  of  Paul,  she  anchored 
her  bark  in  the  municipal  haven,  where  her  benevolence 
of  act,  intention,  and  sentiment,  has  been  spread  broad-cast, 
and  many  a  smile  has  grown  out  of  her  "  lines"  that 
"  have  been  cast  in  pleasant  places." 

There  is  a  mystery  thrown  about  the  brother  of  Paul 
that  we  cannot  unravel.  All  that  is  known  of  him  is, 


44  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

that  he  was  a  pioneer  in  western  civilization ;  was  wounded 
in  the  Black  Hawk  war,  and  died  on  his  way  to  Bean- 
ville,  forwarding  Isaac  and  a  black  silk  handkerchief  of 
boy's  clothes  by  stage  to  their  destination.  But  in  Isaac 
is  centred  the  affection  that  shed  its  rays  about  her  early 
years,  and  in  him  she  sees  the  nucleus  of  a  Partingtonian 
progeny  that  shall  appease  the  spirit  of  Seek-the-King- 
clom  Partyngetonne,  if  it  be  knocking  round  amid  sub-lunar 
scenes.  She  takes  every  occasion  to  describe  his  exalted 
origin.  On  a  recent  occasion,  while  in  the  street  with 
Isaac,  a  citizen  soldier  in  all  the  pride  of  regulation- 
uniform  passed  them.  "  See  !  "  said  the  boy  with  anima- 
tion, "  does  that  look  like  uncle  Paul  ?  "  She  looked  at 
him,  half  offended.  "  No,"  said  she,  Avith  pride  in  her 
expression,  "he  is  no  more  like  your  uncle  than  Hy- 
perion fluid  is  like  a  satire  !  "  There  was  Shakspeare 
and  dignity  in  the  remark,  and  Isaac  turned  with  emotion 
to  look  at  the  picture  of  a  monkey,  in  a  window,  tempting 
a  chained  dog  by  holding  his  tail  within  an  inch  of  the 
canine  nose. 

Speaking  of  the  monkey's  tail  reminds  us  that  we  are 
nearly  to  the  end  of  our  tale  about  Mrs.  Partington.  We 
at  the  first  thought  of  getting  an  autobiography  of  the 
old  lady,  Avhich  would  have  greatly  enhanced  the  interest 
of  the  book,  and  had  asked  her  to  give  us  something  of 
this  kind.  But  one  afternoon,  as  we  were  revolving  some 
stupendous  idea,  —  the  Nebraska  bill,  may  be,  or  the 


BIOGRAPHY   OF  MRS.    PARTINGTOW.  45 

Gadsden  treaty,  or  Mr.  Marcy's  letter,  —  with  our  feet 
in  slippers  a  foot  or  two  above  our  head,  and  puffing  one 
of  those  choice  Habanos  that  the  importer  had  sent  in, 
we  felt  a  finger  on  our  shoulder.  "  Get  out,  woman  !  " 
we  cried,  somewhat  tartly,  "there's  nothing  for  you." 
Heaven  help  us  !  we  thought  it  was  the  woman  with  the 
rummy  breath  that  had  haunted  us  for  days.  The  touch 
was  repeated,  and,  looking  around  to  frown  down  the  in- 
truder, the  mild  gaze  of  Mrs.  Partington  was  bent  upon 
us.  The  chair  from  the  other  room  was  brought  in. 

"  So  you  thought  it  was  the  beggar  woman,  did  you  1  '* 
said  she.  "  Well,  suppose  it  had  have  been?  Could  n't 
you  have  given  her  a  soft  word, if  you  had  n't  any  money  1 
Was  there  anything  harmonious  in  her  asking^  you  for  a 
penny?" 

We  felt  rebuked. 

"But,"  continued  she,  smilingly,  "I  have  come  fo 
say,  about  that  writing  matter,  that  it  will  do  just  as 
well  if  you  write  it  for  me.  Generally,  I  s'pose,  a  naughty 
biography  is  better  if  it  is  writ  by  one's  self,  but  I  can 
trust  you  to  do  me  justice." 

What  a  privilege  !  Macaulay  says  somewhere  that 
Boswell  was  the  only  true  biographer  that  ever  wrote. 
"By  the  star  that  is  now  before  us!"  we  ejaculated, 
looking  at  Mrs.  Partington,  "  he  shall  yet  confess  that 
another  has  been  found,  and  Bozzy's  glories  be  shared 
with  us." 


46  BIOGRAPHY    OF   MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

MM.  Partington  smiled  at  our  enthusiasm,  and  passed 
out  of  the  door,  and  down  the  stairs,  and  waved  an  adieu 
to  us  a  moment  afterwards  from  the  steps  of  an  omnibus 
that  was  to  take  her  home. 

We  have  thus  given  the  LIFE  OF  MRS.  PARTINGTON, 
with  her  antecedents  and  coassociates.  It  is  a  desultory 
story,  unlike,  perhaps,  anything  you  have  seen  before, 
dear  reader.  Try  to  fancy  its  oddity  a  reason  for  praise. 
Remember  the  dull  and  hackneyed  path  of  common 
biographers,  and  remember,  too,  that  this  is  the  biogra- 
phy of  no  common  person,  but  that  of  MRS.  PARTING- 
TON  —  a  name  not  born  to  die.  Perhaps  you  may 
recognize  in  the  oddity  of  the  sketch  a  gleam  of  the 
eccentricity  that  has  marked  her  sayings.  In  the  hope 
that  he  has  pleased  you,  the  biographer  places  his  hand 
on  his  heart  and  bows,  as  the  curtain  descends  to  slow 
music. 


MILD    WEATHER. 


47 


MILD  WEATHER, 


is  grand  weather,  mem,  for 
poor  people,"  said  Mr.  Tigh,  the 
rich  neighbor  of  Mrs.  Partington, 
on  a  very  warm  day_-of  winter, 
and  indulged  in  a  half-chuckle 
about  it  as  he  rubbed  his  hands 
together.  It  is  a  remark  that 
almost  everybody  would  make,  and  mean  it,  too,  —  at  a 
time  when  coal,  by  the  rapacity  of  man,  was  eight  or 
nine  dollars  a  ton,  and  cold  weather,  by  the  blessing  of 
Heaven,  that  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lambs  and 
ragged  children,  was  withheld,  —  but  not  Mrs.  Part- 


oo 

ington. 


"Yes,"  said  she,  gently  laying  her  hand  at  the  same 
time  on  the  sleeve  of  Mr.  Tigh's  coat,  and  looking  him  in 
the  face.  "  Yes,  and  don't  folks  use  this  good  weather  too 
much  as  an  excuse  for  not  helping  the  indignant  widows 
and  orphanless  children  ?  Depend  upon  it,  cold  weather 
is  the  best  for  the  poor,  for  then  the  rich  feel  the  cold, 


48  MILD    WEATHER. 

and  think  more  of  'en,  and  feel  more  exposed  to  give  'em 
consolation  and  coal.  Cold  weather  comes  down  from 
heaven  o'  purpose  to  make  men  feel  their  duty,  and  it 
touches  the  heart,  as  the  frost  touches  the  milk-pitcher 
and  breaks  it,  and  the  milk  of  humane  kindness  runs  out, 
and  the  poor  are  made  better  for  it.  Cold  weather  is  a 
blessing  to  the  poor,  depend  upon  it." 

She  stopped  here,  and  Mr.  Tigh  cast  his  eyes  down  and 
struck  his  cane  several  times  against  a  brick  at  his  feet ; 
then,  bidding  the  old  lady  good-morning,  he  moved  away. 
There  was  a  large  "  Dr.  to  Sundries"  on  his  book  that 
night,  which  the  book-keeper  will  find  it  difficult  to  ex- 
plain ;  but  Heaven  knows  all  about  it,  and  the  secret  gift, 
in  charity,  and  the  prayer  of  the  poor  recipient,  invoking 
blessings  on  the  unknown  benefactor,  were  great  records 
that  night  in  the  angel's  book. 


THE    CHINA    QUESTION.  49 


THE   CHINA  QUESTION. 

"  You  never  see  sich  chancy  no  ware  now,  as  this,' 
said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  took  from  an  obscure  corner 
of  the  old  cupboard  a  teapot  of  antique  appearance,  nose- 
less and  handleless,  and  cracked  here  and  there,  and 
stayed  with  putty  where  Time's  mischievous  fingers  had 
threatened  a  dissolution  of  the  union.  "  That  teapot  was 
my  grandmother's  afore  she  was  married ;  I  remember  it 
just  as  well  as  it  was  yesterday." 

"  Remember  when  your  grandmother  was  married  ?  " 
queried  Ike. 

"No,  no,  the  teapot,"  responded  she;  "antTlt  was  a 
perfect  beauty,  with  the  Garden  of  Eden  on  it,  and  the 
flowers  and  Adam  and  Eve  on  it,  so  natural  that  you 
might  almost  smell  their  fragrance." 

"  What,  smell  Adam  and  Eve  ?  "  said  Ike. 

"  No,  the  flowers,  stupid  !  "  replied  she ;  "  my  grand- 
'ther  gave  it  to  her  as  a  memento  mori  of  his  undying 
infection,  because  the  colors  wouldn't  fade,  and  they 
never  have,  though  children  are  destroying  angels,  and 
they  made  the  mischief  among  the  crockery,  as  they 
always  do  now-a-days." 

She  had  held  the  teapot  in  her  hands  as  she  spoke, 
and  now  she  gazed  in  silence  upon  the  picture  of  Adam 
and  Eve,  partially  concealed  in  the  bushes,  and  she 
revelled  in  the  memory  of  the  past,  and  wondered  if  her 
grandmother  ever  came  back  to  look  at  that  old  teapot 
5 


50  SYMPATHY. 

that  she  had  preserved  so  carefully,  as  an  heir-loom ; 
then,  carefully  brushing  off  some  dust  that  rested  upon 
it,  she  replaced  it,  and  charged  Ike  impressively  to  keep 
it  most  sacrilegiously  for  her  sake.  He  said  he  would,  as 
plain  as  his  mouth  full  of  preserved  plums  would  let 
him,  and  wiped  his  mouth  on  the  sleeve  of  his  best 
jacket. 


SYMPATHY. 

"  HERE  's  fresh  halibut !  "  cried  the  fish-vender,  be- 
neath Mrs.  Partington's  window. 

"I  know  it  is,  you  poor  cretur  !  "  said  the  estimable 
lady,  looking  after  him  with  a  commiserating  expression ; 
"  I  know  it  is;  and  I  believe  it  is  the  seventh  fresh  haul 
about  that  he  has  made  by  here  to-day ;  and  he  speaks 
so  pitiful,  too,  when  he  is  telling  us  of  it,  it  makes  my 
very  heart  ache  for  him." 

She  caught  not  thfe  deep  significance  of  the  cry ;  but 
her  benevolence,  always  on  the  alert,  construed  it  into 
an  appeal  for  sympathy.  Heaven's  blessings  on  thee, 
Mrs.  Partington,  and,  with  reverence  be  it  wished, 
where  hearts  are  regarded,  may  you  turn  up  a  trump. 


PAUL'S  UHOST.  51 


PAUL'S    GHOST. 

IT  was  just  in  the  nigh  edge  of  a  summer  evening,  an<f 
Mrs.  Partington,  who  had  worked  hard  at  her  knitting 
all  day,  began  to  feel  a  little  dozy.  She  felt,  as  sh 
described  it  to  her  neighbor,  Mrs.  Battlegash,  "  a  sort  oi 
alloverness;  "  and  those  who  have  felt  as  she  thus  described 
it,  will  know  the  precise  sensation ; —  for  ourselves,  never 
having  felt  so,  we  cannot  explain  it. 

It  was  a  sort  of  half  twilight,  when  the  daylight 
begins  to  be  thick  and  muddy,  and  a  time  when  ghosts 
are  said  to  be  round  fully  as  plenty  as  at  the  classic  hour 
of  midnight.  We  never  could  see  the  propriety  of  re- 
stricting ghostly  operations  to  this  sombre  hour,  and,  as 
far  as  our  experience  goes,  we  have  seen  as  many  ghosts 
at  "  noon  of  day  "  as  at  the  "  noon  of  night." 

She  never  told  us  why,  or  if  she  were  thinking  of 
ghosts  at  this  time ;  indeed,  all  we  know  about  the  ghost 
was  from  Mrs.  Battlegash,  and  we  shall  have  to  give  the 
narration  as  we  had  it  under  Mrs.  B.'s  own  hand :  — 

"Says  Mrs.  Part'nton,  says  she,  'Mrs.  Battle,'  she 
always  calls  me  Battle,  though  my  name  is  Battlegash 
— my  husband's  name,  and  his  father's  —  says  she,  'Mrs. 
Battle,  I  've  seen  an  apprehension; '  and  I  thought  she 
was  agoing  to  have  an  asterisk,  she  was  so  very  pale  and 
haggard  like ;  and  says  I,  '  What 's  the  matter  1 '  for  I  felt 
kind  of  skeered.  I  had  heered  a  good  deal  about  the 
spirituous  manifestations,  and  did  n't  know  but  they  had 
been  a  manifesting  her.  Says  I,  '  What 's  the  matter,'  agin, 


52  PAUL'S  GHOST. 

and  then  says  she,  as  solum  as  a  grave-yard,  '  I  've  seen 
Paul ! '  I  felt  cold  chills  a  crawlin  all  over  me,  but  I 
mustard  courage  enough  to  say,  '  Do  tell ! '  '  Yes,'  says 
she,  '  I  saw  him  with  iny  mortal  eyes,  just  as  he  looked 
when  he  was  a  tenement  of  clay,  with  the  very  soger 
clo'es  and  impertinences  he  had  on  the  last  day  he  sarved 
his  country  in  the  auxiliary.' 

' '  I  tried  to  comfort  the  poor  cretur  by  telling  her  that 
I  guessed  he  did  n't  keer  enough  about  her  to  want  to 
come  back,  and  as  his  estate  had  all  been  settled  sacrelig- 
iously,  it  would  be  very  unreasonable  indeed  in  him  to 
come  back  to  disturb  her. 

"  '  Where  did  you  see  him?  '  says  I.  '  Out  into  the 
yard,' said  she.  ' When  did  you  see  him V  says  I.  'Just 
now,'  said  she.  '  Are  you  shore  it  was  he  ? '  said  I,  de- 
termined to  get  at  the  bottom  of  it.  'Yes,'  said  she, 
'  if  ever  an  apprehension  did  come  back,  that  'ere  was 
one.  P'raps  it  is  there  now.'  Then  says  I,  'Ruth,'  says 
1,  '  le's  go  and  see.' 

"  She  riz  right  up,  and  we  walked  along  through  the 
long  entry  into  her  room,  and  looked  out  of  her  back 
window,  and  there,  shore  enough,  was  a  sight  as  froze  my 
blood  to  calves-foot  jelly.  There  was  the  soger  cap  and 
coat,  as  nateral  as  life,  with  the  tompion  atop.  My 
heart  come  up  into  my  mouth,  so  that  I  could  have  spit 
it  out  just  as  easy  as  not.  Mrs.  Part'nton,  says  she, 
'What  do  you  think  of  it?  is  n't  it  his  apprehension  1 
But  I  'm  determined  to  speak  to  it.' 

"  I  tried  to  persuade  her  not  to,  but  she  insisted  on  it, 
and  out  she  went. 

"  '  Paul ! '  said  she,  '  what  upon  airth   .io  you  want, 


PAT'T/S    UHOST.  53 

that  you  should  come  back  arter  it,  so  apprehensively  ? ' 
The  figure  was  setting  on  the  top  of  the  pump  when  she 
spoke,  and  it  did  n't  take  no  notice  of  her.  '  Paul ! '  said 
she.  a  little  louder.  Then  slowly  and  solercly  that  'ere 
cap  turned  round,  and  instead  of  Paul,  Mr.  Editor,  if 
you  '11  believe  it,  it  was  Ike,  the  little  scapegrace,  that 
had  frightened  us  almost  out  of  our  wits,  if  we  ever  had 
any.  That  boy,  I  believe,  will  be  the  means  of  some- 
body's death.  Mrs.  Part'nton  grew  very  red  in  the  face, 
and  razed  her  hand  to  inflict  corporal  punishment  onto 
the  young  corporal,  but  the  boy  looked  up  kind  of 
pleasantly  like,  and  she  could  n't  find  the  heart  to  strike 
him,  though  I  told  her  if  she  spared  the  rod  she  would 
spile  that  'ere  child.  It  is  fortnight  for  him  that^ie  isn't 
a  child  of  mine,  I  can  tell  him." 

Here  Mrs.  Battlegash's  narrative  ends.  We  can  fancy 
the  scene  in  the  yard :  the  youngster  in  the  corporal's 
coat,  the  red  face  changing  to  pleasant  equanimity,  the 
raised  hand,  indicative  of  temper,  subsiding,  as  the  waves 
do  when  the  wind  ceases  to  blow,  and  peace,  like  the 
evening  star  above  them,  pervading  a"nd  giving  grace  to 
4'he  tableau. 

5* 


f>4  IKE    SO    TKXDEK-HEARTED. 


IKE   SO   TENDER-HEARTED. 

"  THERE,  don't  take  on  so,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,  as  she  handed  Ike  a  peach  he  had  been  crying  for. 
He  took  the  peach,  and  a  minute  afterwards  was  heard 
whistling  "  Jordan"  on  the  ridgepole  of  the  shed.  "  He 
is  sich  a  tender-hearted  critter,"  said  she  to  Mrs.  Sled, 
smilingly,  while  that  excellent  neighbor  looked  at  him 
through  the  window  with  two  deprecatory  eyes — "  He  is 
so  tender-hearted  that  I  can't  ask  him  to  go  out  and  draw 
an  armful  of  wood  or  split  a  pail  of  water  without  setting 
him  crying  at  once." 

She  paused  for  Mrs.  Sled's  mind  to  comprehend  the 
whole  force  of  the  remark  concerning  Ike's  lachrymosity. 

"And  he's  the  most  considerable  boy,  too,"  resumed 
she,  "  that  ever  you  see ;  for  when  we  had  the  inclina- 
tion on  the  lungs,  he  would  n't  take  a  bit  of  the  medicine 
Dr.  Bolus  had  subscribed,  'cause  he  knowed  it  would  do 
me  good,  and  said  he  'd  full  as  lieves  take  molasses  !  " 

She  went  on  with  her  knitting,  and  Ike  became  lost 
in  the  foot  of  a  stocking  that  she  was  toeing  out.  Those 
grapes  on  the  trellis  opposite  where  Ike  is  sitting  look 
tempting  ! 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  says  there  must  be  some  sort  of 
kin  between  poets  and  pullets,  for  they  both  are  always 
chanting  their  lays. 


LOOK   UP.  55 


LOOK  UP. 

PERHAPS  it  would  not  make  a  rap's  difference,  one 
way  or  the  other,  in  a  man's  fortunes,  whether  he  looked 
up  or  down;  but  we  always  fancied  that  there  was  a  rea- 
son for  the  superstition  that  made  a  man's  habit  of  look- 
ing down  an  augury  of  his  success  hi  life ;  as  if  his  mind 
dwelling,  with  his  eyes,  continually  on  the  earth,  would 
better  enable  him  to  know  how  to  make  money,  as  a 
man  who  dwells  in  the  dark  can  see  better  in  the  accus- 
tomed darkness,  than  one  who  comes  directly  in  from  the 
light.  He  keeps  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  no  stray 
fourpences  or  cents  escape  his  eagle  vision.  Every  rag 
is  marked  to  see  if  it  may  not  be  a  bill  in  disguise,  and 
the  hope  to  find  a  pocket-book  or  two,  while  passing  along 
the  street,  seems  to  be  continually  present  in  his  mind. 
His  eyes  grow  heavy  with  looking  down,  and  when  at 
last  there  is  no  longer  occasion  to  look  down,  —  when  he 
has  found  all  the  fourpences  and  pocket-books  that  he 
has  sought  for,  —  then  the  light  is  painful  to  him,  and  he 
turns  to  the  earth  again,  before  he  is  dead.  Habit  makes 
it  his  only  happiness,  and  he  goes  to  seeking  for  pocket- 
books  and  fourpences  again. 

If  this  be  the  result  of  looking  down,  the  result  of 
looking  up  must  be,  we  should  suppose,  the  opposite  of 
this.  Lifting  the  eyes  above  the  world  brings  one  to 
view  things  far  better  than  fourpences.  As  much  dif- 
ference between  them  as  the  difference  between  a  star 
of  the  first  magnitude,  and  a?  gold  dollar.  The  eyelids 


56  LOOK    UP. 

turned  up,  the  sunlight  streams  clown  upon  the  mind, 
and  prepares  therein  a  soil  for  the  reception  of  good  seed, 
that  shall  grow  up  and  bear  fruit. 

Look  up  !  Who  ever  thinks  of  groping  about  the 
foundations  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  when  there 
are  so  many  pleasures  of  vision  to  be  gained  by  climbing 
to  its  summit  ?  The  higher  the  look,  or  climb,  the  broader 
the  view  from  the  lofty  position  one  gains.  The  most 
beautiful  and  delicate  work  of  a  structure  is  placed  at  the 
top.  The  fruit  that  is  sweetest  is  always  the  nearest 
the  sun.  These  are  facts  that  belong  to  e very-day  life, 
to  say  nothing  of  that  spiritual  looking-up  required  to 
give  light  to  the  soul ;  a  commodity  which  some  few 
people  possess,  and  seem  desirous  of  benefiting. 

But  don't,  in  looking  up,  lose  all  memory  of  earth ; 
for  you  can't  drop  your  body  as  you  can  your  coat,  with 
your  wish,  and  soar  off  on  the  wings  of  the  spirit.  When 
you  look  up,  keep  part  of  an  eye  directed  to  earth,  and 
avoid  the  coal-holes  and  cellar-ways  that  are  open  for 
your  unwary  feet.  A  too  deep  absorption  in  things 
above  the  earth  may  make  the  star-gazer  conscious  of  a 
pain  in  the  back  from  a  too  sudden  contact  with  the 
"  cold,  cold  ground,"  as  we  saw  a  printer  served  on  a 
cold  morning  (though  whether  he  was  heaven-seeking 
is  questionable),  and  who  looked  very  simple  as  he 
gathered  himself  up  after  the  prostration. 

Let  the  upward  look  characterize  us  all,  —  with  the 
eye  to  accidents  mentioned  above,  —  and  secure  for  us  a 
name  for  aspiring  above  the  grovelling  things  of  the 
world,  and  five  of  us  out  of  six  may  be  deserving  of  it. 
Look  up! 


A    SOLEMN    FACT. 


A  SOLEMN   FACT.  . 

\OUR  plants  are  most  fla- 
grantly odious,"  said 
Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
stooped  over  a  small  oval 
"red  table  in  a  neighbor's 
house,  which  table  was  cov- 
1  ered  with  cracked  pots  filled 
:  with  luxuriant  geraniums,  aptd 
a  monthly  rose,  and  a  cactus, 
and  other  bright  creations, 
that  shed  their  sweetness  upon 
the  almost  tropical  atmos- 
phere of  a  southerly  room  in  April,  while  a  fragrant 
vine,  hung  in  chains,  graced  the  window  with  a  curtain 
more  gorgeous  than  any  other  not  exactly  like  it.  Mrs. 
Partington  stood  gazing  upon  them  in  admiration. 

"  How  beautiful  they  are  !  "  she  continued.  "  Do  you 
profligate  your  plants  by  slips,  mem?" 

She  was  told  that  such  was  the  case ;  they  were  propa- 
gated by  slips. 

"  So  was  mine,"  said  Mrs.  P.  "I  was  always  more 
lucky  with  my  slips  than  with  anything  else." 

Bless  thy  kind  old  heart,  Mrs.  Partington !  it  may 
be  so  with  you,  but  it  is  not  so  with  all ;  for  the  way 
of  the  world  is  hard,  and  many  slips  are  made,  and 
for  the  unfortunates  whose  feet  or  tongues  slip  on  the 


58  NEW    REMEDY    FOU   A    BROUGHT. 

treacherous  path,  a  sentence  generally  awaits  which 
admits  small  chance  of  reversal, —  a  soiled  coat  or  a 
soiled  character  sticking  to  them  until  both  are  worn  out. 
Dear  old  lady!  your  humble  chronicler  remembers  that 
many  of  the  young  and  beautiful  are  profligated  by 
slips,  —  slips  so  gradual  that  propriety  could  hardly  call 
them  such  at  first,  —  which  end,  heaven  and  earth  and 
perdition  know  how  deep. 


NEW  REMEDY  FOR  A  DROUGHT. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  was  in  the  country  one  August, 
and  for  a  whole  month  not  one  drop  of  rain  had  fallen. 
One  day  she  was  slowly  walking  along  the  road,  with 
her  umbrella  over  her  head,  when  an  old  man,  who  was 
mending  up  a  little  gap  of  wall,  accosted  her,  at  the 
same  time  depositing  a  large  stone  on  the  top  of  the 
pile. 

"Mrs.  Partington,  what  do  you  think  can  help  this 
'ere  drought?" 

The  old  lady  looked  at  him  through  her  spectacles,  at 
the  same  time  smelling  a  fern  leaf. 

"  I  think,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  of  oracular  wisdom,  "  I 
think  a  little  rain  would  help  it  as  much  as  anything." 

It  was  a  great  thought.  The  old  gentleman  took  off 
his  straw  hat,  and  wiped  his  head  with  his  cotton  hand- 
kerchief, at  the  same  time  saying  that  he  thought  so 
too. 


"  HEAR    THAT    VOICE."  59 


"HEAR  THAT  VOICE." 

DID  the  reader  ever  know  a  man  grown,  and  big  at 
that,  with  a  very  small  voice,  that  almost  squealed  in 
uttering  itself,  and  gave  a  most  ridiculous  aspect  to  what 
was  perhaps  of  great  importance,  as  matters  of  life  and 
death,  the  reading  of  a  will,  an  exhortation  to  virtue,  or 
an  anxious  inquiry  concerning  the  health  of  friends  ?  Of 
course  he  has,  for  there  are  many  such  voices  about. 
An  agent  of  a  large  manufacturing  establishment  in  New 
Hampshire  possessed  this  peculiarity  of  voice  to  a  re- 
markable degree,  which  once  was  the  cause  of  a  most 
mortifying  and  ludicrous  mistake.  A  man  came  to  the 
factory  to  get  employment,  —  a  great  burly  fellow,  with 
a  voice  like  young  thunder,  —  and  saluted  the  agent, 
who  was  a  small  man,  by  the  way,  with  the  question, 
"  Do  you  want  to  hire  1 "  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to  shake 
the  room  in  which  they  stood.  Starting  at  the  sound, 
and  with  a  face  expressive  of  nervous  irritability,  he 
drawled  out,  in  his  squeaking,  querulous  manner,  as  if 
looking  at  each  word  before  he  uttered  it, 

"No — I — don't — know — as — I — do." 

The  man,  not  understanding  his  peculiarity,  attributed 
the  strange  tones  to  another  cause,  and  kindly  extending 
his  huge  hand,  as  one  might  suppose  a  friendly  bear  would 
under  like  circumstances,  patted  the  little  agent  on  the 
head,  and  soothingly  uttered, 

"  Well,  well,  my  little  fellow,  don't  cry  about  it  ; 
don't  take  on  so,  if  you  can't  hire  me  !  " 


t)0  MRS.    i'AUTINUTON    PENNED. 

The  contact  of  crude  humanity  with  his  delicate  nead 
operated  as  magically  upon  the  agent  as  did  the  touch 
of  Captain  Cuttle's  hook  upon  the  refined  flesh  of  Dom- 
bey,  and  frightful  was  the  yell  with  which  he  met  the 
mechanic's  sympathy  in  a  command  to  leave  the  room, 
and  awfully  vehement  was  the  manner  in  which  he 
slammed  the  door  to  as  the  good-humored  fellow  passed 
into  the  street. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   PENNED. 

A  FRIEND,  returned  from  a  visit  to  New  York,  pre- 
sented to  Mrs.  Partington  a  gold  pen  which  had  been 
entrusted  to  him  for  her.  The  present  was  duly  ex- 
amined and  admired,  and  turned  round,  and  pulled  out, 
and  held  up  to  the  light,  and  a  receipt  for  pew-rent  was 
brought  out  from  the  black  bureau,  on  the  back  of  which 
to  test  its  quality,  and  she  made  a  straight  mark  to  the 
right,  and  then  crossed  it  with  another  straight  mark  of 
equal  length,  and  then  said  it  was  charming. 

"But  who  are  they?"  said  she,  speculatively.  "I 
don't  know  them,  I'm  shore." 

The  friend  blandly  explained  that  they  knew  her 
very  well,  and  that  this  present  Avas  a  tribute  of  regard 
for  her  many  virtues,  which,  like  the  odor  of  ten  thousand 
flowers,  is  borne  across  the  entire  land.  The  giver  was 
eloquent  —  touching. 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  "  it  is  very  kind  to  remember  a  poor 
widowless  body  like  me !  What  friends  I  haye  gpt ! 


THE    SODA    FOUNTAIN.  61 

I  hope  that  Heaven  will  be  rewarded  for  their  kindness 
tome!" 

It  was  a  fervent  aspiration,  and  though  the  letter  of  her 
prayer  might  seem  to  divert  the  reward  from  its  true 
object,  still  its  spirit  conferred  it  rightly.  She  opened 
the  old  black  bureau-desk  in  the  corner,  and  placed 
the  gold  pen  carefully  by  the  side  of  the  paste  shoe- 
buckles,  and  hoop  earrings,  —  valuable  relics  of  bygone 
times,  —  and  then  securely  locked  the  desk,  as  she  saw 
Ike  looking  curiously  into  the  window,  with  his  nose 
flattened  close  against  the  glass. 


THE   SODA  FOUNTAIN. 

"  THERE  it  goes  again  ! "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
became  conscious  of  the  sublimity  of  a  soda  fountain  one 
warm  day.  "  There  it  goes  again,  I  declare,  fizzin 
away  like  a  blessed  old  locomoco  on  the  railroad.  Don't 
say  anything  about  Nigary  now,  —  that  is  n't  nothin  in 
caparison  to  this,  —  and  it  a'n't  bad  beer  nuther ;  but 
how  in  natur  they  can  draw  so  many  kinds  out  of  one 
fassit,  that's  the  wonderment  to  me!"  and  she  read- 
justed her  specs,  and  took  a  new  survey  of  the  mystery, 
while  Ike,  unwatched,  was  weighing  his  knife  and  five 
jackstones  in  the  bright  brass  scale  on  the  othei 
counter. 

6 


62  GIVING   REASONS. 


GIVING  REASONS. 

THE  various  reasons  which  some  folks  always  have 
ready  for  their  accidents  and  misfortunes,  or  as  pallia- 
tives for  their  faults  and  follies,  are  very  amusing. 
Many  stories  are  told  of  such :  one  we  remember  of  a 
boy  who  had  played  truant,  and  gave,  as  the  reason  for 
his  absence,  that  his  father  kept  him  at  home  to  help 
grind  the  handsaw.  A  toper,  accounting  for  a  bad  cold 
he  had,  said  he  had  slept  on  the  common,  and  forgot  to 
shut  the  gate.  Another  soaker,  who  was  found  in  the 
gutter,  with  the  water  making  a  free  passage  over  him, 
when  asked  how  he  came  there,  replied  that  he  had  agreed 
to  meet  a  man  there. 

In  our  printing-office  days,  when  we  had  to  work  for 
a  living,  it  was  our  luck  to  work  with  a  queer  old  fellow, 
who  bore  the  name  of  Smith,  or  some  such  odd  title. 
He  was  a  very  unhappy  man,  and  never  smiled  unless 
he  had  the  whole  office  in  a  snarl,  and  then  he  would 
chuckle  right  gladly.  He  was  always  fancying  that  his 
office-mates  were  imposing  upon  him,  and  a  perfect  flood 
of  bile  would  he  throw  off  at  times  for  imagined  wrongs. 
His  position  was  by  a  window,  fronting  the  east,  and 
over  this  window  he  claimed  absolute  dominion,  to  shut 
it  up  or  have  it  open,  as  he  just  pleased,  maugre  the 
fretting  of  those  who  were  annoyed  by  his  obstinacy. 
He  assumed  the  office  of  a  thermometer  for  the  men,  and 
graduated  the  heat  according  to  his  own  feelings.  If  the 


A   SMALL    TRADE.  63 

wind  was  east  he  would  as  surely  have  the  window  open 
as  that  he  would  have  it  shut  if  it  blew  pleasantly  from 
the  west. 

One  day,  with  the  wind  blue  east,  the  window  was 
open  all  day,  and  much  audible  complaint  was  made  by 
all  hands,  but  without  any  effect.  It  was  with  a  feeling 
nearly  akin  to  exultation  they  saw  him  enter  the  office 
next  day  with  indubitable  signs  of  having  a  cold  upon 
him; — his  nose  looked  "red  and  raw,"  and  his  voice 
sounded  as  if  he  had  two  tight-fitting  cork  stoppers  in  his 
nostrils.  The  window  that  day  was  not  opened,  you  may 
depend.  One  of  the  men  undertook  to  remind  him  that 
his  cold  was  in  consequence  of  the  wind  blowing  upon 
him. 

"  Do  it  aidt,"  said  Smith,  "  but  I  hug  by  hat  up  by 
the  widnder,  ad  last  dight  whed  I  put  it  od,  it  was  brib 
full  of  east  wid." 


A  SMALL   TRADE. 

"  COLD  day,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  old  Roger,  in  the  Dock 
Square  omnibus  to  his  neighbor,  who  assented  very 
politely.  "And  yet,"  continued  Roger,  "  cold  as  it  is, 
I  have  just  seen  a  man  in  State-street,  who  does  not 
wear  gloves." 

"  Ah  !  "  responded  Smith,  struck  with  the  singularity 
of  the  statement,  "  why  not,  pray?  " 

"Why,"  chuckled  the  old  man,  "because  he  hasn't 
any  hands." 

Mr.  Smith  smiled. 


64  ON    LOCOMOTION. 


ON   LOCOMOTION. 

"  So  they  've  got  you  on  the  stage,  Mrs.  Partington," 
said  we  to  the  old  lady,  after  seeing  her  name,  on  a 
theatre  bill,  as  one  of  the  characters  in  a  new  burletta. 

"  On  the  stage  ! "  replied  she,  and  a  gleam  of  memory 
passed  over  her  face  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  over  a  faded 
landscape,  and  she  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  down 
the  street,  until  her  eye  rested  on  an  omnibus  moving 
quickly  along,  in  the  pride  of  paint  and  gold,  and  she 
took  passage  in  it,  in  fancy,  and  went  along  with  it. 
"Yes,"  said  she,  "  they  did  get  me  on  the  stage,  because 
it  caused  a  nonsense  in  my  stomach  to  ride  inside  ;  and 
what  a  queer  figure  I  did  make  on  it,  to  be  sure  !  But 
that,  dear,  was  five  and  twenty  years  ago,  and  it  is  so 
queer  they  should  remember  it.  0,  them  stages!  I've 
heerd  of  people  riding  by  easy  stages,  but  I  never  saw 
one.  The  easiest  way  that  I  ever  rid  was  on  a  pillory 
behind  Paul,  there.  Easy  stages,  indeed  !  why,  it  shook 
me  as  if  it  would  shake  the  sensuality  all  out  of  me,  and 
I  never  got  over  it  for  a  week.  How  different  it  is 
now  !  "  —  and  she  looked  at  the  omnibus  just  passing  her 
door,  —  "all  you  've  to  do  is  to  get  into  an  ominous,  all 
cushioned  nicely,  with  a  whole  picture-gallery  round  it, 
to  see  for  nothing,  and  afore  you  know  it  you  are  where 
you  want  to  go.  Stages " 

f<  But  it  is  the  National  stage,"  we  said. 

"Well,  well,''  replied  she,  hastily,  "'taint  no  differ- 
ence; only  the  national  stage  carried  the  mail,  and 


THE    LARGEST   LIBERTY.  6£ 

t'other  the  female  passengers  ;  one  was  jest  as  bad  as 
t'other,  and  I  don't  know  but  worse."' 

"But  they've  got  you  in  the  theatre,  the  National 
Theatre,"  we  persisted,  and  showed  her  the  bill. 

She  looked  at  it  a  moment,  and  wiped  her  specs,  and 
looked  at  it  again  in  silence,  as  if  her  mind  had  n't  got 
back  from  the  hard  journey  it  had  just  taken.  At  that 
moment  a  crash  of  glass  called  her  hastily  to  the  kitchen. 
The  floor  was  covered  with  fragments  of  that  brittle 
article,  and  a  large  ball  hopped  under  a  chair,  as  if 
ashamed  of  itself;  while  Ike  was  seen,  through  the 
broken  window,  making  tracks  speedily  for  the  shed. 
We  left  her  picking  up  the  glass,  so  that  he  might  not 
get  it  into  his  bare  feet  when  he  came  in.  Depend  upon 
it,  he  had  to  take  a  severe  "  talkin  to"  when  she  caught 
him. 


THE   LARGEST   LIBERTY. 

"  Now  go  to  meeting,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
Isaac  stood  smoothing  his  hair  preparatory  to  going  out 
on  Sunday.  He  looked  down  at  his  new  shoes,  and  a 
thought  of  the  green  fields  made  him  sigh.  A  fishing- 
line  hung  out  of  one  pocket,  which  Mrs.  Partiugton 
didn't  see. 

"Where  shall  I  go  to?"  asked  Ike. 

Since  the  old  lady  had  given  up  her  seat  in  the  Old 
North  church,  she  had  no  stated  place  of  worship. 

"  Go,"  replied  she  sublimely,  as  she  pulled  down  his 
jacket  behind,  "go  anywheres  where  the  gospel  is  dis- 
pensed with." 

6* 


00  MRS.    PARTIXdTON    IX    COURT. 

Such  liberality  is  rare.  Bigotry  finds  no  place  in  her 
composition,  and  the  truth,  in  her  view,  throws  its  light 
into  every  apartment  of  the  Chi'istian  edifice,  like  an 
oysterman's  chandelier  into  his  many  booths.  The  simile 
is  not  the  very  best,  but  the  best  to  be  had  at  present. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   IN   COURT. 

"I  TOOK  my  knitting-work  and  went  up  into  the 
gallery,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  the  day  after  visiting 
one  of  the  city  courts ;  "I  went  up  into  the  gallery, 
and,  after  I  had  digested  my  specs,  I  looked  down 
into  the  room,  but  I  could  n't  see  any  courting  going  on. 
An  old  gentleman  seemed  to  be  asking  a  good  many 
impertinent  questions,  —  just  like  some  old  folks,  —  and 
people  were  setting  round  making  minuets  of  the 
conversation.  I  don't  see  how  they  made  out  what  was 
said,  for  they  all  told  different  stories.  How  much 
easier  it  would  be  to  get  along  if  they  were  all  made  to 
tell  the  same  story  !  What  a  sight  of  trouble  it  would 
save  the  lawyers !  The  case,  as  they  called  it,  was 
given  to  the  jury,  but  I  could  n't  see  it,  and  a  gentle- 
man with  a  long  pole  was  made  to  swear  that  he'd 
keep  an  eye  on  'em,  and  see  that  they  did  n't  run  away 
with  it.  Bimeby  in  they  come  agin,  and  then  they  said 
somebody  was  guilty  of  sonn'1 ''"  ^  who  had  just  said  he 
was  innocent,  and  did  n't  know  nothing  about  it  no  more 
than  the  little  baby  that  never  had  subsistence.  I  come 
.away  soon  afterwards ;  but  I  could  n't  help  thinking  how 


"  RKJ1IT"    AND   «  LEFT."  67 

trying  it  must  be  to  sit  there  all  day,  shut  out  from  the 
blessed   air!  " 

This  experience  is  a  beautiful  exhibit  of  judicial 
life.  True  enough,  Mrs.  Partington;  how  easy  might 
be  the  determining  of  cases,  were  but  one  side  of  the 
story  told  !  But,  alas  for  perplexed  jurymen  !  there  are 
unfortunately  two  sides,  and  the  brain  is  racked  to  judge 
between  them  —  Conscience  holding  the  light  trembling- 
ly, lest  Honor  be  compromised,  and  Mercy  pointing  with 
raised  finger  to  its  fountain,  as  if  endeavoring  to  draw 
attention  from  Justice,  who  stands,  sword  in  hand,  to 
urge  her  claim.  "  To  well  and  truly  try  "  is  the  'solemn 
duty  fastened  by  an  oath,  and  the  Commonwealth  reposes 
in  blessed  security  upon  the  broad  responsibility  of  twelve 
honest  men.  God  save  the  Commonwealth  ! 


"RIGHT"  AND  "LEFT." 

"  THERE  never  was  a  time  when  the  divine  right  of 
kings  could  be  better  shown,"  said  old  Roger,  em- 
phasizing the  word  "  right"  significantly. 

"Why?"  asked  the  little  man  from  the  provinces, 
looking  up. 

"  Because,"  replied  he,  "  there  will  soon  be  none 
of  them  left." 

An  audible  "Whew!"  whistled  along  the  table,  and 
one  distinct  knock  from  each  boarder,  denoted  equivocal 
approbation.  The  dessert  was  dispensed  with. 


68 


A    LITTLE    TRUTH    WELL    PUT. 


A  LITTLE   TRUTH  WELL   PUT. 


0  you've  come  down  to  attend 
|the  adversary  meetings,"  said 
Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  surveyed 
the  three  trunks  and  two  valises 
and  a  basket  that  the  cab  had 
just  left,  and  the  owner  of  them  all,  a  gentleman  in 
black,  with  a  ghostly-looking  neckcloth. 

"  Ah!  "  said  he,  humoring  her  conceit  and  smiling,  for 
he  expected  to  stay  some  days,  "the  adversary  we  meet 
Ave  subdue  with  the  weapons  of  the  spirit." 

"  That  is  just  what  dear  Deacon  Sprig  said  when  he 
captivated  the  crazy  Ingen  with  New  England  rum,  and 
then  put  him  in  bride'll.  Says  he,  '  I  '11  subdue  him 
with  the  swoi'4  of  the  spirit' — he  was  sich  a  queer  man  ! 
These  meetings  are  excellent  for  converting  heathens  and 
saving  the  lost,  and  I  do  hope,  after  they  have  saved 
everybody  else,  that  they  will  try  and  save  a  few  more  of 
their  own  that  need  teaching.  There  is  a  great  many 
round  here  that  want  lookincr  after  more  than  the  heathen 


MUSICAL    CRITICISM.  69 

do ;  and  we  must  look  after  our  own  first,  or  be  worse 
than  the  infiddles." 

A  pair  of  yarn  stockings  and  a  box  of  butter  stopped 
her  mouth  for  the  time,  and  the  old  silver  spoons  marked 
"P.  P."  and  the  antique  china  were  brought  out  —  arti- 
cles that  were  only  used  on  state  occasions. 


MUSICAL   CRITICISM. 

"How  did  you  like  the  concert?"  asked  Frank,  of 
Mrs.  Partington,  at  the  Oratorio.  "  Very  much,  indeed," 
said  she ;  "I  liked  everything  about  the  Ontario  but  the 
consecutives  ;  the  corrosives  I  thought  were  sublimated, 
but  the  consecutives  I  thought  was  dreadfully  out  of 
tune."  Frank  explained  to  her  the  object  of  the  recita- 
tive, and  smiled  a  little  at  the  queer  mistake  she  had 
made  in  musical  terms.  Bless  thee,  Mrs.  Partington ! 
thy  genius  in  its  extravagance  is  never  retarded  by 
terms. 


70  LIFE   ON   THE   ROAD. 


LIFE   ON   THE   ROAD. 

ONE  summer,  during  the  very  hot  weather,  our  Ellen, 
whose  life  could  number  seventeen  happy  summers,  and 
nearly  the  same  number  of  winters,  took  it  into  her 
little  roguish  head  that  she  would  like  to  go  to  Hampton 
Beach.  And  when  such  a  whim  had  once  got  into  her 
head,  the  question  might  well  be  asked  how  could  it  be 
got  out.  It  would  be  hopeless  to  attempt  it,  provided 
any  one  Avere  so  inclined ;  but  no  one  said  a  word,  and 
Ellen  did  go.  She  and  her  little  friend  Charlotte,  who 
was  on  a  visit  to  Ellen,  started  for  the  Beach,  with 
lots  of  precautions  and  dough-nuts  from  Ellen's  mother, 
for  there  is  not  a  better  soul  between  here  and  Great 
Hill  than  that  same  mother  of  Ellen's. 

The  horse  and  the  wagon,  bearing  its  charming  freight 
of  two  pretty  girls,  moved  swiftly  and  safely  over  the 
road  to  the  Beach,  and  many  a  musical  echo  reverberated 
through  the  woods,  and  along  the  meadows,  and  by  the 
hill-sides,  and  from  the  hill-tops,  as  they  passed  along. 

The  day  was  very  pleasantly  spent  by  the  sea-shore, 
and  when  wearied  with  rambling  over  the  fine,  smooth 
beach,  and  sporting  in  the  breakers  like  naiads,  they 
started  on  their  return  home,  with  hearts  as  light  and 
eyes  as  bright  as  when  they  set  out  in  the  morning. 

Their  horse  was  a  spirited  animal,  which  could  ill 
brook  a  whip,  and  was  also  emulative  to  a  great  degree 
in  competing  with  other  horses  for  mastery  on  the  road. 
In  fact,  he  would  allow  no  horse  to  go  by  him,  and  made 


LIFE   ON   THE   KOAL).  71 

it  a  matter  of  principle  —  if  horses  are  ever  governed 
by  principle  —  to  go  by  all  on  the  road.  They  had 
got  perhaps  half  way  home,  when  they  overtook  an 
oldish  sort  of  a  man  who  was  driving  a  fast  horse. 
"Billy,"  Ellen's  horse,  stuck  up  his  ears,  and  "put 
her,"  with  an  evident  determination  of  going  by.  The 
old  'un  stirred  his  beast  up  to  the  strife,  and  away  they 
went  over  the  road  as  swift  as  the  swallows  —  neither 
having  the  advantage.  Ellen  laughed  at  the  sport,  and 
held  the  ribbons  with  the  tact  of  a  veteran  Jehu.  The 
contest  was  soon  decided,  for  the  old  chap  raised  his 
whip  and  slightly  touched  "  Billy"  with  the  lash. 

Billy  impetuously  kicked  at  the  insult,  but  darted 
like  lightning  along  the  road,  distancing  his  competitor 
in  a  twinkling.  The  old  man  was  seen  no  more  by  the 
victors  ;  but  over  the  road  they  still  flew,  Billy  heeding 
neither  rein  nor  word.  The  remembrance  of  the  insult 
put  him  to  his  speed,  and  he  dashed  along  with  terrific 
velocity. 

Men  rushed  out,  and  threw  up  their  hands,  and  cried 
"  Whoa !  " 

Women  screamed,  and  prophesied  ivoe  to  them. 

Dogs  barked  as  they  skimmed  along. 

But  no  fear  was  felt  by  our  Ellen  in  her  peril.  Her 
pulse  was  quick  with  the  excitement,  but  no  fear  mingled 
with  it.  Her  cheek  was  red  as  the  rose,  and  her  eyes 
laughed,  as  her  ringing  voice  told  the  people  to  get  out 
of  the  way.  She  wound  the  ribbons  round  her  hands, 
and  to  keep  the  middle  of  the  road  was  her  only  care. 

Bravo  !  Ellen  —  bravo !  and  the  brave  heart  and 
strong  arm  gave  her  the  victory.  A  two-mile  heat,  the 


72  FANCY    DISEASES. 

quickest  ever  ran  in  our  county,  stands  recorded  to  her 
fame. 

This  is  n't  much  of  a  story,  but  it  shows  what  a  true 
woman  can  do  and  should  do  in  an  emergency.  It  will 
not  do  for  Ellen's  husband  to  treat  her  badly,  we  can  tell 
him,  when  he  gets  her.  His  bones  would  n't  be  entirely 
safe. 


FANCY  DISEASES. 

"DISEASES  is  very  various,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
she  returned  from  a  street-door  conversation  with  Dr. 
Bolus.  "The  Doctor  tells  me  that  poor  old  Mrs.  Haze 
has  got  two  buckles  on  her  lungs !  It  is  dreadful  to 
think  of,  I  declare.  The  diseases  is  so  various  !  One  way 
we  hear  of  people's  dying  of  hermitage  of  the  lungs  ; 
another  way  of  the  brown  creatures ;  here  they  tell  us 
of  the  elementary  canal  being  out  of  order,  and  there 
about  tonsors  of  the  throat :  here  we  hear  of  neurology 
in  the  head,  there  of  an  embargo  ;  one  side  of  us  we  hear 
of  men  being  killed  by  getting  a  pound  of  tough  beef  in 
the  sarcofagus,  and  there  another  kills  himself  by  dis- 
covering his  jocular  vein.  Things  change  so,  that  I 
declare  I  don't  know  how  to  subscribe  for  any  disease 
now-a-days.  New  names  and  new  nostrils  takes  the 
place  of  the  old,  and  I  might  as  well  throw  my  old  herb- 
bag  away." 

Fifteen  minutes  afterwards  Isaac  had  that  herb-bag  for 
a  target,  and  broke  three  squares  of  glass  in  the  cellar 
window  in  trying  to  hit  it,  before  the  old  lady  knew  what 
he  was  about.  She  did  n't  mean  exactly  what  she  said. 


DAGUERREOTYPES. 


DAGUERREOTYPES. 

"WiiAT  artfulness!"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
held  her  miniature  in  her  hand,  done  in  the  highest  style 
of  the  daguerrean  art.  The  features  were  radiant  with 
benevolence;  the  cap,  close-fitted  about  her  venerable 
face,  bore  upon  it  the  faded  black  ribbon,  the  memento 
of  ancient  woe ;  the  close-folded  kerchief  about  her  neck 
was  pinned  with  mathematical  exactness,  while  from 
beneath  the  cap  border  struggled  a  dark  gray  lock  of 
hair,  like  a  withered  branch  in  winter  waving  amid  ac- 
cumulated snows.  The  specs  and  box  were  represented 
upon  the  table  by  her  side.  The  picture  was  like  her, 
and  admiration  mai'ked  every  line  of  her  countenance  as 
she  spoke. 

"  What  artfulness  here  is,  and  how  nat' rally  every  lini- 
ment is  brought  out !  How  nicely  the  dress  is  digested  !  " 

She  was  talking  to  herself  all  the  while. 

"Why,  this  old  black  lutestring,  that  I  have  worn  twenty 
year  for  Paul,  looks  as  good  as  new,  only  it  is  a  little 
too  short-waisted  by  a  great  deal.  0,  Paul,  Paul !  " 
sighed  she,  as  she  sat  back  in  her  chair  and  gazed,  with 
a  tear  in  her  eye,  upon  an  old  smoke-stained  profile,  cut 
in  black,  that  had  hung  for  many  a  year  above  the 
mantel-piece.  "  0,  Paul !  what  a  blessed  thing  this  is, 
where  Art  helps  Natur,  and  Natur  helps  Art,  and  they 
both  help  one  another !  How  I  wish  I  had  your  dear  old 
phismahogany  done  like  this  !  I  'd  prize  it  more  than 
gold  or  silver." 
7 


74  THAT   AND    THAT. 

She  sat  still,  and  looked  alternately  at  the  daguerreo- 
type and  the  profile,  as  if  she  hoped  the  profile  would 
speak  to  her ;  but  it  still  looked  rigidly  forward,  thrust- 
ing out  its  huge  outline  of  nose  as  if  proud  of  it,  and 
then  with  a  sigh  she  reclasped  the  case  and  deposited  the 
picture  in  the  upper  drawer  of  the  old  black  bureau  in 
the  corner.  Ike  was  all  the  while  burning  holes  through 
a  pine  shingle  with  one  of  Mrs.  Partington's  best  knit- 
ting-needles. 


THAT  AND   THAT. 

"You  do  make  that  child  look  like  a  fool,  wife,  with 
all  that  toggery  on  him,"  said  Mr.  Fog  angrily,  as  they 
were  starting  out  for  a  walk.  "Dear  me,"  says  Mrs. 
Partington,  meeting  them  at  the  door,  ' '  what  a  doll  of  a 
baby,  and  how  much  he  resembles  his  papa  ! "  Mr.  Fog 
coughed,  and  they  passed  along. 


ON    POLITICS.  75 


ON  POLITICS. 

"  As  regards  these  electrical  matters;"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  just  before  election,  —  she  lived  on  a  main 
street,  and  the  cheering  and  noise  of  parties  passing  her 
door  kept  her  awake  o'  nights,  —  "  I  don't  see  the  use 
of  making  so  much  fuss  about  it.  Why  don't  they  take 
some  one  and  give  him  their  sufferings,  if  he  has  n't  got 
any  of  his  own,  and  let  him  be  governor  till  he  dies, 
just  as  they  do  the  judges,  and  arterwards  too,  as  they 
sometimes  do  them,  for  they  might  as  well  be  dead,  a 
good  many  of  'em?  0,  this  confusion  of  noise  and 
hubbub  !  My  poor  head  aches  o'  hearing  of  it,  and  Isaac 
has  got  sich  a  cold,  looking  out  of  the  window  at  the 
possessions  without  nothing  on  the  head.  And  then 
what  critters  they  all  be,  to  be  sure  !  —  their  newspa- 
pers are  brim  full  of  good  resolutions,  but  ne'eraone  of 
'em  did  I  ever  know  'em  to  keep.  They  are  always 
resolving,  like  the  showman's  resolving  views,  and  one 
resolution  fades  away  jest  as  quick  as  another  comes. 
If  I  ooul,d  have  my  way,  I  would  "  — 

"  Hooray  !  here  they  come  !  "  cried  Ike,  breaking  in 
upon  the  old  lady's  remarks,  and  banging  his  slate  on 
the  floor,  and  throwing  up  the  window  with  a  vehemence 
that  broke  two  squares  of  glass. 

"  Hooray  !  "  came  up  in  a  big  chorus  from  the  street, 
filling  Mrs.  Partington's  little  chamber,  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  with  "  hooray,"  the  great  element  of  political 
life. 


76     OLD  ROGER  AT  THE  LOWELL  INSTITUTE. 

"There  they  go  agin,"  cried  she,  "  with  their  drums 
and  lanterns,  like  crazy  critters,  and  keeping  folks  awake 
when  they  ought -to  be  in  the  arms  of  Murphy  !  " 

Ike  pulled  in  his  head  and  dropped  the  window,  and 
the  good  old  lady  mended  the  fracture  of  the  glass  by  a 
hat  and  a  pair  of  pants  of  Ike's,  with  the  threat  of  severe 
punishment  if  he  ever  did  so  again.  But  do  you  sup- 
pose she  would  have  kept  it  1  Ike  knew  better.  When 
the  glazier  came  in  the  next  day  to  mend  the  window,  she 
had  to  tell  him  the  story  of  how  it  was  broke,  but  all  the 
blame  was  on  the  politicians. 


"  DON'T  crowd  so,  good  woman,"  said  old  Roger,  at 
the  Lowell  Institute,  as  he  was  waiting  his  turn  to  give 
his  name.  "Don't  crowd  so  !"  and,  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  he  met  the  reproachful  glance  of  Mrs.  Part- 
ington  herself,  who  was  there  for  the  same  purpose.  He 
immediately  gave  way  to  her,  and  the  next  morning 
found  himself  not  divisible  by  7,  nor  anything  like  it. 
"  So  much  for  politeness  !  "  growled  old  Roger ;  "  she  '11 
get  all  the  Natural  Religion  now ;  and  much  good  may 
it  do  her!  "  You  would  have  smiled  to  see  the  spiteful 
manner  in  which  the  little  man  said  this. 


BEAUTIFUL    REFLECTION    INTERRUPTED.  77 


BEAUTIFUL  REFLECTION  INTERRUPTED. 

"DEAR  me!"  said  Mrs.  Partington  ;  and  so  she  is 
dear.  — not  that  she  meant  so,  — because  under  that  black 
bonnet  is  humility,  and  self-praise  forms  no  part  of  her 
reflection.  It  was  a  simple  ejaculation,  that  was  all ; 
our  word  for  it.  "  Dear  me  !  here  they  are  going  to  have 
war  again  over  the  sea,  and  only  for  a  Turkey,  and  it 
don't  say  how  much  it  weighed  either,  nor  whether  it 
was  tender ;  and  Prince  Knockemstiff  has  gone  off  in  a 
miff,  and  the  Rushin  bears  and  Austriches  are  all  to  be 
let  loose  to  devour  the  people,  and  Heaven  knows  where 
the  end  of  it  will  leave  off.  War  is  a  dreadful  thing  — 
so  destroying  to  temper  and  good  clo'es,  and  men  shoot 
at  each  other  jest  as  if  they  was  gutter  purchase,  and 
cheap  at  that." 

How  sorrowfully  the  cover  of  the  snuff-box  shut,  as 
she  ceased  speaking !  and  the  spectacles  looked  dewy, 
like  a  tumbler  in  summer-heat  filled  with  ice-water,  as 
she  looked  at  the  profile  of  the  corporal,  with  the  sprig 
of  sweet  fern  above  it,  and  the  old  sword  behind  the 
door. 

What  did  Ike  mean  as  he  stole  in,  and  deposited  some 
red  article  under  the  cricket  upon  which  her  feet  rested, 
and  then  stole  out  again  ? 

A  hissing  sound  followed  —  crack  !  snap  !  bang  ! 
whiz !  went  a  bunch  of  crackers  —  and  Mrs.  Partington, 
in  consternation  and  cloth  slippers,  danced  about  the 
room,  forgetful  of  distant  war  in  her  present  alarm. 

Ah.  Ike  ! 


78  APPOINTING    INSPECTORS. 


APPOINTING  INSPECTORS. 

"INSPECTORS  of  customs!"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
energetically,  as  she  laid  down  the  paper  chronicling 
some  new  appointment.  Here  was  a  new  idea,  that 
broke  upon  her  mind  like  a  ray  of  sunshine  through  a 
corn  barn. 

"  Inspectors  of  customs  !  "  and  she  looked  up  at  the 
rigid  profile  of  the  old  corporal,  as  if  she  would  ask  what 
he  had  to  say  about  it ;  but  that  warrior  had  hung  there 
too  long  to  be  now  disturbed  by  trifles,  and  he  took  no 
notice  of  her. 

"  Inspectors  of  customs ! "  continued  she,  as  she 
turned  her  attention  to  the  old  black  teapot,  and  then 
turned  out  the  tea,  which  celestial  beverage  gurgled 
through  the  spout,  in  harmony  with  her  reflections,  not 
too  strong;  "that's  a  new  idea  to  me.  But,  thank 
Providence,  I  ha'n't  got  no  customs  that  I  hadn't  as 
lives  they'd  inspect  as  not;  only  I'd  a  little  rather 
they  wouldn't.  I  wish  everybody  could  say  so,  but 
I  'm  afeard  there  are  many  customs  that  won't  bear 
looking  into.  Well,  let  every  tub  stand  on  its  own  bot- 
tom, I  say — I  won't  cast  no  speciousness  on  nobody. 
But  I  don't  see  what  they  wanted  to  appoint  any  more 
for,  and  be  to  so  much  suspense  when  every  place  has  so 
many  in  it  that  will  inspect  customs  for  nothing.  If 
they'd  only  make  my  next-door  neighbor,  Miss  Juniper, 
now,  an  inspector  of  customs,  they  would  n't  need 
another  for  a  long  ways,  that 's  mortally  sartin." 


MRS.    PARTINGTON    AT   TEA.  79 

She  stirred  her  souchong  as  she  ruminated,  untasting, 
and  Ike  helped  himself,  unheeded,  to  the  last  presdfrved 
pear  there  was  in  the  dish. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   AT  TEA. 

"ADULTERATED  tea!"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
read  in  the  Transcript  an  account  of  the  adulteration  of 
teas  in  England,  at  which  she  was  much  shocked.  ' '  I 
wonder  if  this  is  adulterated  ?  "  and  she  bowed  her  head 
over  the  steaming  and  fragrant  decoction  in  the  cup  be- 
fore her.  whose  genial  odors  mingled  with  the  silvery 
vapor,  and  encircled  her  venerable  poll  like  a  halo. 
"It  smells  virtuous,"  continued  she,  smiling  with  satis- 
faction, ' '  and  I  know  this  Shoo-shon  tea  must  be  good, 
because  I  bought  it  of  Mr.  Shoo-shon  himself,  at  Red- 
ding's.  Adulterated !  "  she  meandered  on,  pensively 
as  a  brook  in  June,  "and  it's  agin  the  command- 
ment, too,  which  says don't  break  that,  Isaac  !  "  as 

she  saw  that  interesting  juvenile  amusing  himself  with 
making  refracted  sunbeams  dance  upon  the  wall,  and 
around  the  dark  profile,  and  among  the  leaves  of  the 
sweet  fern,  like  yellow  butterflies  or  fugitive  chips  of 
new  June  butter.  The  alarm  for  her  crockery  dispelled 
all  disquietude  about  the  tea,  and  she  sipped  her  beverage, 
all  oblivious  of  dele-tea-rious  infusions. 


80 


SIR,    YOU   OWE   ME  A    CENT. 


SIR,   YOU   OWE 


A   CENT. 


THER  things  may  bo  great," 
said  old  Roger  with  a.  nod, 
"  besides  what 's  called  so ; 
some  very  little  thing,  if  t  is 
done  well,  can  be  a  great  one ; 
in  impudence,  say,  for  in- 
stance. Yesterday  a  boy 
asked  me  pitifully  for  a  four- 
pence  ;  I  gave  him  what  I 
thought  to  be  one,  and  passed 
on.  Presently  I  felt  a  twitch 
SB**!  at  my  coat-tail,  and  looked 
round,  and  there  stood  the  boy. 
'Sir,'  says  he,  'you  owe  me  a  cent — this  'ere  Avon' t 
pass  for  but  five  cents  —  it 's  crossed  ! '  I  gave  the 
little  rascal  a  shilling  at  once ;  I  could  n't  help  it.  The 
thing  was  sublime,  — admirable ;  hang  me  if  it  was  n't." 
And  the  little  man  struck  his  cane  violently  on  the 
ground,  and  laughed  happily  at  the  supreme  impudence 
displayed  in  the  aifair. 


GUESSING   AT   A    NAME.  81 


GUESSING  AT  A   NAME. 

"  DRIVE  him  out !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
Ike  whistled  in  an  immense  house-dog,  who  perambu- 
lated the  kitchen,  dotting  the  newly-washed  floor  with 
flowers  of  mud,  and  audaciously  smelling  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton's  toes,  as  the  old  lady  stood  up  in  a  chair  to  avoid 
him. 

':  Drive  him  out.     What  is  his  name,  Isaac  1 " 

11  Guess,"  replied  Ike. 

"I  can't,  I  know.  Perhaps  it's  Watch,  or  Ponto,  or 
Csesar  —  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  Guess." 

"I  tell  you  I  can't  guess.  Perhaps  it's  Hector,  or 
Tiger,  or  Rover  — what  is  his  name  1 " 

"Guess." 

"  0,  you  provoking  creatur !  I'll  be  tempered  to  whip 
you  within  an  inch  of  your  skin  if  you  provoke  me  so. 
Why  don't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"I  did  tell  you  the  first  time,"  whined  Ike,  pulling 
the  dog's  ear  with  one  hand  while  he  wiped  his  dry  eyes 
with  the  other,  "  his  name  is  Guess." 

The  old  lady  was  melted  by  his  emotion,  and,  as  soon 
as  the  dog  was  sent  out,  some  nice  quince  jelly  settled 
the  difficulty. 

"He  is  sich  a  queer  child ! "  murmured  she ;  "so 
bright !  I  suppose  't  was  because  he  was  weaned  on 
pickles." 

Ike  ate  his  preserves  in  silence,  but  his  eye  was  on  the 


82  BURNING    WATER. 

acorn  on  the  post  of  the  old  lady's  high-backed  chair, 
and  he  thought  what  a  nice  top  it  would  make  if  he 
could  saw  it  off  some  day. 


BURNING  WATER. 

"WELL,  this  is  a  discovery!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Part- 
ington  smilingly,  as  she  stood  with  a  small  picture  in  her 
right  hand,  her  left  resting  upon  the  pine  table,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  flame  of  a  glass  lamp,  that  sputtered 
for  a  moment  and  then  shot  out  a  gleam  of  cheerful 
light  that  irradiated  every  part  of  the  little  kitchen, 
revealing  the  portrait  of  Paul  upon  the  wall  and  Ike 
asleep  by  the  fire.  She  spoke  to  herself — it  was  a  way 
she  had  —  and  she  met  with  no  contradiction  from  that 
quarter.  "  This  is  a  discovery.  This  lamp  was  almost 
burnt  out,  and  I  've  filled  it  up  with  water,  and  it  burns 
like  the  real  ile."  The  experiment  was  perfectly 
triumphant ;  the  problem  of  light  from  water  was 
demonstrated;  and  yet,  with  this  vast  fact  revealed 
to  her,  Mrs.  Partington,  with  a  modesty  equal  to  that  of 
the  great  philosopher  who  picked  up  a  pocket-full  of 
rocks  on  the  shore  of  the  vast  ocean  of  Truth,  smiled 
with  delight  at  her  discovery,  nor  once  thought  of  putting 
out  a  patent  or  selling  rights  —  was  entirely  willing  all 
might  bum  water  that  could. 


A   STRIKING   MANIFESTATION.  83 


A.  STRIKING  MANIFESTATION. 

"  ICAN:T  believe  in  sperituous  knockings,"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  solemnly,  as  some  things  were  related  to  her 
which  had  been  seen,  that  appeared  very  mysterious. 
"  I  can't  believe  about  it;  for  I  know, if  Paul  could  come 
back,  he  Avould  revulge  himself  to  me  here,  and 
would  n't  make  me  run  a  mile  only  to  get  a  few  dry 
knocks.  Strange  that  the  world  should  be  so  supersti- 
tional  as  to  believe  sich  a  rapsody,  or  think  a  sperrit  can 
go  knocking  about  like  a  boy  in  vexation.  /  can't 
believe  it,  and  I  don't  know  's  I  could  if  that  teapot 
there  was  to  jump  off  the  table  right  afore  my  eyes  ! "  She 
paused,  and  through  the  gloom  of  approaching  darkness 
could  be  seen  the  determined  expression  of  her  mouth. 
A  slight  movement  was  heard  upon  the  table,  and  the 
little  black  teapot  moved  from  its  position,  crawled 
slowly  up  the  wall,  and  then  hung  passively  by  the  side 
of  the  profile  of  the  ancient  corporal !  The  old  lady 
could  not  speak,  but  held  up  her  hands  in  wild  amaze^ 
ment,  while  her  snuff-box  fell  from  her  nerveless  grasp 
and  rolled  along  upon  the  sanded  floor.  She  left  the 
room  to  procure  a  light,  and,  as  soon  as  she  had  gone, 
the  teapot  was  lowered  by  the  invisible  hand  to  its 
original  station,  and  Ike  stepped  out  from  beneath  tho 
table,  stowing  a  long  string  away  in  his  pocket,  and 
grinning  prodigiously. 


84  IKE    AND    THE    ELEPHANT. 


IKE    AND    TH_E    ELEPHANT. 

"WELL,"  said  Ike,  looking  the  elephant  directly  in 
the  eye,  at  the  same  time  doubling  up  his  huge  fist,  as 
big  as  a  half-cent  bun,  and  putting  on  an  air  of  defiance, 
after  the  animal  had  stolen  his  gingerbread  ;  "  well,  you 
got  it,  did  n't  you,  you  old  thief,  you  !  I  s'pose  you 
think  you  've  done  thunderin'  great  things,  don't  you  /? 
For  my  part,  I  don't  call  it  no  better  'n  stealing.  0, 
you  may  stand  there  and  swing  that  ridic'lous-looking 
trunk  o'  your'n  just  as  much  as  you  're  a  mind  to  ;  you 
can't  skeer  a  fellow,  /  tell  you !  This  is  a  free  country, 
old  club-feet ;  and  you  an't  agoing  to  take  any  more 
liberties  here  like  that.  I  can  tell  you  it  won't  be  safe  for 
that  Ingee-rubber  hide  o'  yourn,  if  you  do  !  You  take 
my  gingerbread  away  agin,  if  you  dare,  that 's  all !  You 
just  try  it,  you  ongainly  reptile,  you  !  0,  you  may  look 
saucy,  and  pretend  you  don't  keer,  but  you  just  say  two 
words, — just  knock  that  chip  off  my  head, — and  if  I  don't 
give  you  fits  my  name  an't  Ike  Partington,  that 's  all  ! 
Just  put  down  that  big  Ingee-rubber  bludgeon,  and  I  '11 
black  your  eyes  for  you,  you  old  tough-leather  !  You 
darsn't  say  a  word,  you  ill-mannered  old  hunch  !  I  'd 
knock  your  eye-teeth  out,  if  you  did.  0,  take  it  up,  if 
you  're  a  mind  to  ;  you  need  n't  think  to  bully  it  over 
me,  because  you  're  a  little  bigger'n  I  am,  I  can  tell  you. 
We  don't  stand  no  such  nonsense  as  that,  round  here. 
If  't  warn't  for  that  p'leceman  looking  here,  I  'd  pitch 
into  you  like  a  thousand  o'  bricks.  /  would  n't  get  out 


A    SUBSTITUTE.  85 

o'  your  way  as  people  do  when  you  come  along,  and  I 
should  like  to  see  you  just  step  on  my  toes  —  why  can't 
you  just  try  it  now,  will  you  ?  I  guess  I  'd  make  you 
hear  thunder  Avith  them  leather-apron  ears  o'  your'n, 
you  big  overgrown  vagabond,  you  !  'T  a'n't  no  use  o' 
talking  to  you,  but  I  shall  be  here,  and,  if  you  don't  mind 
your  eye,  I  '11  lick  you  like  blazes  afore  I  go  out." 

Here  Isaac  undoubled  his  hands,  and,  shaking  his  head 
threateningly  at  the  huge  animal,  he  went  over  to  get  a 
look  at  the  monkeys ;  while  the  elephant  lazily  swung 
his  trunk  from  side  to  side,  and  good-naturedly  fanned 
himself  with  his  big  ears,  as  if  he  had  n't  minded  a  word 
the  little  fellow  had  said. 


A  SUBSTITUTE. 

"  I  HAVE  N'T  got  any  money,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
as  the  box  came  round  at  the  close  of  a  charity  lecture ; 
"  but  here  's  a  couple  of  elegant  sausages  I  have  brought 
that  you  can  give  the  poor  creturs  !  "  The  box-holder 
looked  confounded  —  the  people  smiled.  With  her  view 
of  charity,  she  saw  nothing  wrong  in  the  act.  Bless 
thee,  Mrs.  Partington  !  angels  shall  record  the  deed  on 
the  credit  side  of  thy  account,  and  where  hearts  are 
judged  shall  thy  simple  gift  weigh  like  golden  the  day 
of  award. 


86  WHOLESOME   ADVICE. 


WHOLESOME    ADVICE. 

"  ISA  AC,  "said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  that  interesting 
juvenile  was  playing  a  game  of  "knuckle  up"  against 
the  kitchen  wall,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  the  old 
clock  which  ticked  near  by,  "this  is  a  marvellous  age, 
as  Deacon  Babson  says,  and  perhaps  there  's  no  harm  in 
'em,  but  I  'm  afeard  no  good  '11  come  out  of  it  —  no  good 
at  all  —  for  you  to  keep  playing  marvels  all  the  time, 
as  you  do.  I  am  afeard  you  will  learn  how  to  gambol, 
and  become  a  bad  boy,  and  forget  all  the  good  device  I 
have  given  you.  Ah  !  it  would  break  my  soul,  Isaac,  to 
have  you  given  to  naughty  tricks,  like  some  wicked  boys 
that  I  know,  who  will  be  rakeshames  in  the  airth  if  they 
don't  die  before  their  time  comes.  So,  don't  gambol, 
dear,  and  always  play  as  if  you  had  just  as  lieves  the 
minister  would  see  you  as  not."  She  handed  him  a 
little  bag  she  had  made  for  him  to  keep  his  marbles  in, 
and  patted  his  head  kindly  as  he  went  again  to  play. 
Ike  was  fortified,  for  the  next  five  minutes,  against 
temptation  to  do  evil ;  but 

"  Chase  span,  in  the  ring, 
Knuckle  up,  or  anything," 

are  potent  when  arrayed  against  out-of-sight  solicitude, 
and  we  fear  that  the  boy  forgot.  There  is  much  reason 
in  the  old  lady's  fear. 


A   GHOST   STORY.  87 


A   GHOST    STORY. 

IN  the  vicinity  of  a  town  not  many  miles  from  Boston 
was  a  dark  glen,  by  the  roadside,  reputed  to  be  haunted. 
A  traveller  had  been  found  here,  many  years  before, 
frozen  to  death,  and  his  troubled  spirit,  with  a  disposi- 
tion to  trouble  everybody  else,  was  said  nightly  to  visit 
the  scene  of  his  mortal  termination,  to  have  a  "melan- 
choly satisfaction  "  all  alone  by  himself,  or  with  but  such 
auditors  as  he  could  press  in  to  participate  in  the  "  ser- 
vices of  the  evening."  An  old  fellow,  who  resided  in 
the  town,  and  was  fully  imbued  with  the  superstition, 
had  been  one  night  to  a  husking,  where  the  milk-punch 
had  circulated  with  more  than  common  generosity,  and 
though  '•  na  fou,"  he  had  enough  on  board  to  make  him 
comfortable  and  happy  and 


• ' '  glorious, 


O'er  all  the  ills  of  life  victorious." 

Towards  the  hour  of  breaking  up,  the  conversation 
turned  upon  the  ghost,  by  whose  dark  hunting-ground 
our  friend  had  to  pass,  over  a  road  raised  up  amid  an 
alder  swamp,  whose  sad  gloom  could  hardly  be  dispelled 
by  a  noon-day  sun,  and  where  nothing  but  a  ghost  of  the 
most  simple  sort  would  wish  to  abide. 

"  Wi'  tippenny  we  fear  nae  evil, 
Wi'  usquebae  we  '11  face  the  devil," 

Burns  said ;  and  milk-punch  we  suppose  to  be  about  the 
same   in   its   courage-inspiring    properties.      Our   hero 


88  A    GHOST   ST011Y. 

snapped  his  fingers  at  danger  from  ghosts  and  unholy 
angels,  and  cared  for  neither  a  "bodle."  It  was  a  mile- 
walk,  good,  to  the  spiritual  precinct,  and,  thinking  on 
his  way  that  it  would  be  the  part  of  prudence  to  prepare 
for  emergency,  before  he  came  to  the  dark  gulf  he  was 
to  pass,  he  gathered  a  small  artillery  from  a  stone  Avail, 
determined,  if  assaulted,  to  do  battle  manfully,  for  the 
credit  of  the  punch. 

He  had  crossed  a  little  brook  that  murmured  beneath 
the  rude  bridge  above  it,  and  had  fairly  got  through 
the  dangerous  part,  as  he  considered  it,  of  his  journey, 
and  muttered  to  himself,  in  rather  a  tone  of  disappoint- 
ment, "I  guess  he  must  be  sick;  fog  isn't  good  for 
him,"  when,  lo  !  almost  directly  in  the  path  before  him 
was  an  object  that  made  him  come  to  a  stand  at  once. 
It  was  all  ghostly  white,  and  he  had  barely  time  to  look 
at  it,  when  a  hideous  groan  came  towards  him  on  the 
night  air,  which  the  milk-punch  could  hardly  counteract 
in  its  effect  on  his  nervous  system.  Rallying,  however, 
he  selected  a  missile  and  let  fly  at  his  ghostly  obstructor  ; 
another  groan,  like  the  last  bellow  of  expiring  nature, 
answered  this  assault.  He  hurled  another  huge  stone, 
and,  gathering  courage  from  the  excitement,  he  blazed 
away  in  a  manner  that  would  astonish  either  human  or 
superhuman  antagonists,  but  without  any  apparent  effect 
upon  the  adversary,  who  stood  his  ground  manfully, 
or,  perhaps  we  should  say,  ghostfully.  As  the  last 
stone  of  his  ammunition  was  expended,  however,  with  a 
cry  that  echoed  fearfully  through  the  alders,  the  ghost 
rushed  towards  him,  and  a  violent  shock  laid  him  sense- 
less upon  the  ground,  a  vanquished  man.  He  was  found 


A    DANGEROUS    POSITION.  89 

the  next  morning  pensively  sitting  by  the  road-side, 
contemplating  the  scene  of  his  night's  exploit,  with  his 
head  in  his  hand. 

He  told  his  story,  and  pointed  to  the  scattered  missiles 
for  proof  of  what  he  had  done  ;  and  he  was  believed,  for 
"to  give  up  the  ghost"  was  out  of  the  question.  But, 
on  going  home,  a  small  white  two-year-old  bull  was  seen 
grazing  by  the  road-side,  and  suspicion  for  a  moment 
crossed  their  minds  that  this  might  have  been  the  ghost, 
after  all,  seen  through  the  medium  of  the  punch  ;  but  this 
would  have  been  voted  rank  heresy  against  the  ancient 
institution  of  ghosts,  and  they  held  their  peace. 


A  DANGEROUS  POSITION. 

"  DON'T  lay  in  that  postur.  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton  to  Ike,  who  was  stretched  upon  a  settle,  with  his  heels 
a  foot  or  two  higher  than  his  head.  "  Don't  lay  so ;  raise 
yourself  up,  and  put  this  pillow  under  you.  I  knew  a 
young  man  once  who  had  a  suggestion  of  the  brain  in 
consequence  of  laying  so  —  his  brains  all  run  down  into 
his  head  !  "  and  with  this  admonition  she  left  him,  to 
practise,  soon  after,  the  hazardous  experiment  of.  tying 
his  legs  in  a  bow  knot  round  his  neck,  as  he  had  seen 
Professor  Baldwin  do. 
8* 


90  A  LESSON   OX   SYMPATHY. 


A  LESSON   ON   SYMPATHY. 

"  WHAT  a  to-do  they  are  making  about  this  Cosset !  " 
said  Mrs.  Partington,  smilingly.  The  news  had  reached 
her  ear  of  the  triumphs  ui  Kossuth,  and  the  name  had 
assumed  a  form,  and  that  form  recalled  a  train  of  pe- 
culiar and  characteristic  associations,  and  she  went  on 
like  an  eight-day  clock  :  "A  cosset  is  a  pretty  thing  in 
a  family  where  there  's  children,  and  they  are  dear 
critters  for  girls  that  has  n't  got  sweethearts  to  invent 
their  young  aifectations  on ;  but  what 's  the  use  of  making 
sich  a  fuss  about  it?  " 

"  But  this  is  Kos-SM^A,  aunt,  the  great  Hungarian," 
said  Ike,  tremendously,  who  was  well  posted  up  in  pass- 
ing matters;  "  who  has  come  over  here  to  ask  our  sym- 
pathy, and  enlist  us  in  behalf  of  his  country." 

"Well,"  said  she,  as  the  new  light  dawned  upon 
her,  "  they  may  have  our  sympathy  in  welcome,  'cause 
it  don't  cost  anything ;  but  we  must  n't  'list  and  give 
'em  money,  — that  would  be  agin  our  constitutions! " 

And  the  prudent  dame  drummed  thoughtfully  on  her 
snuff-box  cover,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  vane  of 
the  Old  South,  while  Ike  amused  himself  by  scratching 
"KQsSMTjj,"  with  a  fork,  on  the  end  of  the  new 
japanned  waiter. 


HOW   IKE   DROPPED   THE   CAT. 


91 


HOW  IKE   DROPPED  THE   CAT. 

ow,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington.  as  she  came  into  the 
room  with  a  basket  snugly 
covered  overj  "  take  our 
Tabby,  and  drop  her  some- 
where, and  see  that  she  don't 
come  back  again,  for  I  am 
.sick  and  tired  of  driving  her 
lout  of  the  butter.  She  is  the 
thievinest  creatur !  But  don't 
hurt  her,  Isaac ;  only  take  care 
that  she  don't  come  back." 
Ike  smiled  as  he  received  his  charge,  and  the  old  lady 
felt  happy  in  getting  rid  of  her  trouble  without  resorting 
to  violence.  She  would  rather  have  endured  the  evil  of 
the  cat,  great  as  that  evil  was,  than  that  the  poor  quad- 
ruped should  be  inhumanly  dealt  with.  She  saw  Ike 
depart,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  watched  him 
until  he  became  lost  to  view  in  the  shadow  of  a  tree.  It 
was  a  full  half  hour  before  he  returned  with  his  empty 
basket,  and  an  unusual  glee  marked  his  appearance,  —  it 
sparkled  in  his  eye,  it  glowed  in  his  cheek,  it  sported  in 
his  hair,  —  and  Ike  looked  really  handsome,  as  he  stood 
before  the  dame,  and  proclaimed  the  success  of  his 
mission. 

"Did  she   drop   easy,  Isaac  ?"  asked   the   old  lady, 


92  HOW  IKE   DROPPED   THE    CAT. 

looking  upon  him  kindly,  "  and  won't  she  come 
back?" 

"  She  dropt  just  as  easy!' '  said  Ike,  letting  his  basket 
fall  on  the  floor,  and  shying  his  cap  upon  the  table,  some- 
what endangering  a  gl.'.ss  lamp  with  a  wooden  bottom 
that  stood  thereon;  "  uhe  dropt  just  as  easy!  and  she 
won't  come  back  — you  may  bet  high  on  that." 

"  But  you  didn't  beat  and  mangle  her,  Isaac,  did 
you  1  If  you  did  I  should  be  afraid  she  would  come  back 
and  haunt  us — I  have  heard  of  such  things;"'  and  she 
looked  anxiously  in  his  face  ;  but,  detecting  there  no  trace 
of  guilt,  she  patted  him  on  the  head,  and  parted  his  hair, 
and  told  him  to  sit  down  and  eat  his  supper,  which  the 
young  gentleman  did  with  considerable  unction. 

"Isaac!  Isaac!"  screamed  Mrs.  Partington,  at  the 
foot  of  the  little  stairway  that  led  to  the  attic  where  the 
boy  slept,  the  next  morning  after  the  above  occurrence. 
"Isaac!" — and  he  came  down  stairs  slowly,  rubbing 
his  eyes  as  he  came.  She  had  disturbed  his  morning 
nap. 

"  Isaac,"  said  she,  "  what  is  that  hanging  yender  to  a 
limb  of  our  apple-tree?"  One  scattering  tree,  as  she 
said,  constituted  her  whole  orchard,  unless  she  counted 
the  poplar  by  the  corner. 

"  I  can't  see  so  fur  off,"  said  Ike,  still  rubbing  his 
eyes. 

"Well,  /should  think  it  was  a  cat;  and  it  looks  to 
me  like  our  Tabby.  0,  Isaac  !  if  you  have  done  this  !  " 
and  a  tone  akin  to  horror  trembled  in  her  voice. 

"  I  '11  go  and  see  if  it 's  her,"  said  Ike,  as  if  not  hear- 
ing the  last  part  of  her  remark ;  and  he  dashed  out  of 


HOW   IKE    DKOPPED    THE    CAT.  93 

the  door,  but  soon  came  back,  with  wonder  depicted  on 
every  feature  of  his  expressive  countenance.  "  0,  it's 
her  !  sure  enough,  it 's  her !  "  cried  he,  "  but  I  did  drop 
her !  " 

"Well,  how  could  she  come  there  then?  "and  the 
good  old  lady  looked  puzzled. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  I  guess  it  was,"  said  Ike,  looking 
demurely  up.  "I  guess  that  she  committed  suicide, 
because  we  was  going  to  drop  her ;  they  are  dreadful 
knowing  critters,  you  know." 

"  True  enough,"  replied  the  old  lady,  while  something 
like  a  tear  glistened  in  her  eye  —  her  pity  was  excited ; 
"  true  enough,  Isaac,  and  I  dare  say  she  thought  hard  of 
us  for  doing  it ;  but  she  hadn't  ought  to  if  she  'd  have 
considered  a  minute." 

Ike  said  no  more,  but  went  out  and  cut  down  the  sup- 
posed suicide,  with  a  serious  manner,  and  buried  her 
beneath  her  gallows,  deep  down  among  the  roots  of  the 
old  tree,  and  she  never  came  back. 

The  old  lady  told  the  story  to  the  minister,  and  Ike 
vouched  for  it,  but  the  good  man  shook  his  head  incredu- 
lously at  the  idea  of  the  suicide,  and  looked  at  the  boy. 
He  very  evidently  understood  how  the  cat  was  dropped. 


94  STOPPING   A   'BUS. 


STOPPING  A'BUS. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  had  watched  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  for  an  omnibus,  and  she  swung  her  umbrella  as  one 
drove  up,  and  the  driver  stopped  his  horses  near  where 
she  stood. 

"  Now,  Isaac,"  says  she,  feeling  in  her  reticule 
for  a  copper,  away  down  under  the  handkerchief,  and 
snuff-box,  and  knitting-work,  and  thread-case,  and 
needle-book,  "  be  a  good  boy,  dear,  while  I  am  gone, 
and  don't  cause  a  constellation  among  the  neighbors,  as 
some  boys  do,  and  there  's  a  cent  for  you  ;  and  be  sure 
you  don't  lay  it  out  extravagantly,  now ;  and  be  keerful 
you  don't  break  the  windows ;  and  if  anybody  rings  at 
the  door,  be  sure  and  see  who  it  is  before  you  open  it, 
because  there  is  so  many  dishonest  rogues  about ;  if  any 
porpoises  come  a  begging  give  'em  what  was  left  of  the 
dinner,  Heaven  bless  'em,  and  much  good  may  it  do 

'em !  and why,  bless  me  !  if  the  omnibus  has  n't 

gone  off,  and  left  me  standing  here  in  the  middle  of  the 
street.  Such  impudence  is  without  a  parable." 

Her  spectacles  gleamed  indignantly  down  the  street? 
after  the  disappearing  'bus,  and,  for  a  moment,  anger  had 
the  mastery ;  but  equanimity,  like  twilight,  came  over  her 
mind,  and  she  waited  for  the  next  'bus,  with  calmness  on 
her  face,  and  her  green  cotton  umbrella  under  her  arm. 


AFTER  A    WEDDING.  95 


AFTER  A  WEDDING. 

"I  LIKE  to  tend  weddings,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
she  came  back  from  a  neighboring  church,  where  one  had 
been  celebrated,  and  hung  up  her  shawl,  and  replaced 
the  black  bonnet  in  the  long-preserved  bandbox.  "  I 
like  to  see  young  people  come  together  with  the  promise 
to  love,  cherish,  and  nourish  each  other.  But  it  is  a 
solemn  thing,  is  matrimony,  —  a  very  solemn  thing,  — 
where  the  pasture  comes  into  the  chancery,  with  his  sur- 
plus on,  and  goes  through  with  the  cerement  of  making 
'em  man  and  wife.  It  ought  to  be  husband  and  wife  ; 
for  it  a'n't  every  husband  that  turns  out  a  man.  I 
declare  I  shall  never  forget  how  I  felt  when  I  had  the 
nuptual  ring  put  on  to  my  finger,  when  Paul  said, 
'With  my  goods  I  thee  endow.'  He  used  to  keep  a  dry- 
goods  store  then,  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  give 
me  all  there  was  in  it.  I  was  young  and  simple,  and 
didn't  know  till  arterwards  that  it  only  meant  one 
calico  gound  in  a  year.  It  is  a  lovely  sight  to  see  the 
young  people  plighting  their  trough,  and  coming  up  to 
consume  their  vows." 

She  bustled  about  and  got  tea  ready,  but  abstract- 
edly she  put  on  the  broken  teapot,  that  had  lain  away 
unused  since  Paul  was  alive,  and  the  teacups,  mended 
with  putty,  and  dark  with  age,  as  if  the  idea  had  conjured 
the  ghost  of  past  enjoyment  to  dwell  for  the  moment  in 
the  home  of  present  widowhood. 


96  MRS.  PAKTINGTON   IN    THE   MARKET. 

A  young  lady,  who  expected  to  be  married  on  Thanks- 
giving night,  wept  copiously  at  her  remarks,  but  kept 
on  hemming  the  veil  that  was  to  adorn  her  brideship, 
and  Ike  sat  pulling  bristles  out  of  the  hearth-brush  in 
expressive  silence. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  IN  THE  MARKET. 

"  I  WONDER  what  they  mean  by  a  better  feeling  in  the 
market?"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  looking  up  from  the 
newspaper  which  she  was  reading,  and  the  problem 
deeply  agitated  her  mind,  revealed  in  the  vibration  of 
her  cap-border.  Her  address  was  directed  to  nobody  in 
particular.  It  was  a  little  private  wonder,  got  up  for 
her  own  amusement.  The  market,  and  the  deaths  and 
marriages,  were  Mrs.  P.'s  favorite  study  in  the  Weekly 
Chronicle,  but  some  of  the  mercantile  phrases  were  at 
times  imperfectly  understood.  "I  wonder  what  they 
mean  ?  •  I  'm  shore  /  don't  feel  any  better  there,  and 
I  don't  believe  anybody  does  but  the  butchers,  and 
that 's  when  they  are  pocketing  the  money,  —  things  is 
so  dear!  But,"  continued  she,  brightening  up,  "I 
should  like  to  see  the  trade  embracing  ten  hogsheads  of 
tobacco,  that  I  see  here  printed  about.  That  must  have 
been  a  real  tetching  sight."  She  thought  of  Paul,  and 
the  association  brought  out  the  cotton  handkerchief  with 
the  Constitution  and  Guerriere  upon  it,  and  she  discon- 
tinued. 


P  A   K  T  I  N  C  T  <)  X   [   A   N       I'  II   I    I,  <>  S  O  I'   II    V  . 


PARTINGTON    PHILOSOPHY.  97 


PARTIXGTON    PHILOSOPHY. 

BEFORE  the  railroad  company  bought  and  tore  down 
the  Partington  mansion,  and  uprooted  and  overturned  the 
old  family  shrines  without  regard  to  their  sacredness, — 
the  Vandals  !  —  turning  the  good  old  heart  that  worship- 
ped there  out  upon  the  world  to  seek  newr  ties  amid  new 
scenes,  it  was  Mrs.  Partington's  delight  to  gather  friends 
about  her  at  Thanksgiving  time,  and  the  time-honored 
season  passed  very  happily.  Amid  the  festivities  hei 
benignity  would  beam  with  such  a  radiance,  that  the  red 
seed  peppers  upon  the  Avail  looked  ruddier  in  its  genial 
glow,  and  the  bright  tin  pans  upon  the  shelf  seemed 
brimful  of  sunshine,  and  smiled  out  upon  all  who  looked 
at  them. 

There  were  fine  times  at  the  Partington  mansion  at 
Thanksgiving,  you  may  depend.  She  did  n't  keep  Christ- 
mas,—  she  was  puritanical  in  her  religious  notions,  and 
'tended  the  Old  North  meeting-house  for  a  third  of  a 
century,  and  took  pride  in  saying  that  she  had  never  been 
to  church ;  a  nice  distinction  which  we  leave  the  old 
folks  to  make, —  Christmas  was  a  church  holiday,  un- 
sanctioned  by  a  governor's  proclamation,  and  she  would 
none  of  it ;  she  scented  in  it  the  garment  of  the  disrep- 
utable Babylonish  female,  mentioned  in  the  Apocalypse, 
and  avoided  it.  But  it  is  Thanksgiving  that  we  are 
speaking  about  now  —  -  Well,  well,  what  has  all  this  to 

do  with  patience  1 Have  patience,  darling,  and  we  :11 

tell  you  an  instance  of  patient  resignation  under  disap- 
9 


08  PARTT"UTON    PHILOSOPHY. 

pointment,  not  surpassed  since  Newton's  dog  Diamond 
committed  an  incendiary  act,  and  his  master  gravely  in- 
formed the  quadruped  that  he  was  not  probably  aware  of 
the  extent  of  the  damage  he  had  committed ;  which  was 
doubtless  the  fact. 

It  was  the  custom  with  Mrs.  P.  to  shut  up  a  turkey 
previous  to  Thanksgiving,  in  order  that  he  might  be  nice 
and  fat  for  the  generous  season.  One  year  the  gobbler 
had  thus  been  penned,  like  a  sonnet,  with  reference  to 
Thanksgiving,  and  anticipations  were  indulged  of  the 
"  good  time  corning;"  but,  alas!  the  brightest  hopes  must 
fade.  The  turkey,  when  looked  for,  was  not  to  be  found. 
It  had  been  stolen  away  !  Upon  discovering  her  great 
loss,  Mrs.  P.  was  for  a  moment  overcome  with  surprise 
—  disconcerted;  but  the  sun  of  her  benevolence  soon 
broke  the  clouds  away,  and  spread  over  her  features  like 
new  butter  upon  hot  biscuit,  and  with  a  smile,  warm  with 
the  feeling  of  her  heart,  she  said  —  "  I  hope  they  will 
find  it  tender  ! — I  guess  we  can  be  thankful  on  pork 
and  cabbage  !  " 

"  Say,  ye  severest,  what  would  ye  have  done  " 

under  such  circumstances  1  You  would,  perhaps,  have 
raved,  and  stamped,  and  swore,  and  made  yourself  gen- 
erally ridiculous,  besides  perilling  your  soul  in  the  excess 
of  your  anger.  But  Mrs.  P.  did  n't,  and  there  is  where 
you  and  she  differ.  She  stood  calmly  and  tranquilly  — 
a  living  lesson  of  philosophical  patience  under  extreme 
difficulty.  We  cite  this  example  that  the  world  may 
profit  by  it. 


FILIAL   DUTY  VS.  WASHING-POWDER.  99 


FILIAL  DUTY  w.  WASHING-POWDER. 

"  CHILDKEN  of  the  present  day,"  sighed  the  Rev. 
Adoniram  Spaid,  as  he  was  visiting  Mrs.  Partington 
during  the  spring  anniversaries  —  "children  of  the 
present  day,  ma'am,  sadly  ruffle  the  bosoms  of  thcii 
parents." 

He  crossed  his  legs  as  he  spoke,  and  tied  his  hand- 
kerchief in  a  hard  knot  over  his  knee,  at  the  same 
time  looking  at  Ike  through  the  back  window,  as  that 
young  gentleman  was  performing  a  slack-rope  exercise 
upon  the  clothes-line,  endangering  the  caps  and  hand- 
kerchiefs that  swung  like  banners  in  the  breeze.  Mrs. 
Partington  suspended  washing,  and  looked  round  at  her 
visitor,  at  the  same  time  wiping  her  hands  to  take  a 
pinch  of  snuff. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "  I  think  so;  but  it  isn't  so 
bad,  either,  as  it  used  to  be  before  the  soap-powder  was 
found  out." 

Mr.  Spaid  quietly  protested  that  he  could  not  see  the 
relevancy  of  the  remark. 

"  Why,"  continued  she,  inhaling  the  rappee,  and  hand- 
ing the  box  to  the  minister,  "  then  it  was  a  great  labor 
to  wash  and  do  'em  up ;  but  now  the  washing-powder 
makes  it  so  easy,  that  the  children  can  rumple  bosoms 
or  anything  else  with  perfect  impurity.  We  don't  make 
nothing  of  it.  I  consider  washing-powder" — holding 
up  a  pair  of  Ike's  galligaskins  that  had  just  gone  through 


100  A   SERIOUS   QUESTION. 

a  course  of  purification —  "as  a  great  blessing  to  moth- 
ers." 

The  minister  smiled,  and  thought  what  a  curious 
proposition  it  would  be,  in  the  "  Society  for  the  Mitiga- 
tion of  Everything,"  to  recommend  washing-powder  as 
an  auxiliary  to  other  operative  blessings,  and  thanked 
Mrs.  Partinjrton  for  the  hint. 


A  SERIOUS   QUESTION. 

OLD  ROGER  came  down  stairs,  one  Sunday  morning, 
with  a  face  unusually  animated,  and  stood,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  playing  nervously  with  the  tails 
of  his  coat.  The  breakfast  was  Availing  for  him,  the  fish- 
balls  were  getting  cold,  the  coffee  was  evaporating ;  but 
he  did  n't  seem  to  care.  He  leaned  over  the  back  of  the 
landlady's  chair,  and  asked  her,  in  a  whisper,  if  she 
could  tell  him  why  a  dyspeptic  was  out  of  immediate 
danger  when  his  disease  was  most  distressing.  She 
looked  earnestly  at  the  top  of  the  teapot  a  few  moments, 
and  then  said  that  for  the  life  of  her  she  couldn't  tell. 
A  curiosity  was  evinced  by  the  boarders,  and  they  asked 
what  it  was.  They  all  gave  it  up,  too.  "Why,"  said 
he,  looking  very  red,  "it  is  because  he  can't  di-gest 
then."  Drawing  his  chin  within  his  stock,  the  old  fel- 
low laughed  lustily,  and  in  his  paroxysm  threw  his  arms 
around  the  landlady's  neck  for  support ;  but  she  threw 
them  off  very  indignantly,  for  the  boarders  were  all  look- 
ing at  her.  He  then  sat  down  to  breakfast  with  a  good 
appetite. 


RATHER    A    RASCAL.  101 


RATHER  A   RASCAL. 

"Mas.  PARTINGTON,  your  neighbor,  Mr.  Gruff,  is 
rather  irascible,  I  think,"  said  the  new  minister  on  his 
first  visit  to  the  old  lady,  as  he  heard  Gruff  scolding  Ike 
for  throwing  snow-balls  at  his  new  martin-house.  Gruff 
kept  a  grocery  over  the  way,  and  was  in  a  constant 
quarrel  with  every  boy  in  the  neighborhood.  Mrs.  Part- 
ington  looked  at  the  minister  through  her  spectacles 
inquiringly  before  she  answered. 

"  Rather  a  rascal !  "  said  she,  slightly  misapprehend- 
ing his  question,  and  patting  her  box  affectionately ;  "  yes, 
indeed,  I  think  he  is,  a  great  rascal !  He  sold  me  burnt 
peas  for  the  best  coffee,  once,  and  it  was  n't  weight, 
nuther.  When  they  built  our  new  church,  somebody 
said  there  was  a  nave  in  it,  and  I  know'd  in  a  minute, 
who  they  meant.  Why  " 

"  I  mean,''  interrupted  the  minister,  blandly,  laying 
his  white  hand  gently  on  his  arm,  "  I  mean  that  he  is 
quick-tempered. ' ' 

"0,  that's  quite  another  thing  —  yes,  he  is  very," 
and  she  changed  the  subject.  But  that  word  "irascible" 
ran  in  her  head  for  an  hour  after  he  was  gone,  and 
when  Ike  came  in  she  told  him  to  take  down  the  old 
Johnson's  Decency  and  find  the  defamation  of  it. 
9* 


102          THE   SENSITIVE    MAN   SEES   A    BLOOMER. 


THE   SENSITIVE  MAN   SEES   A 
BLOOMER. 

THE  Sensitive  Man  came  in,  one  day,  just  after  dinner, 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  fainted.  After  a  mug 
or  two  of  Cochituate  water  had  been  dashed  in  his  inter- 
esting face,  he  came  to  a  little,  gazed  wildly  upon  the 
circle  that  surrounded  him,  and  said,  in  a  sort  of  unearthly 
whisper,  "Where  is  she?"  Nobody  knew  what  he 
meant.  The  fog,  a  moment  later,  rolled  from  his  soul, 
and  he  was  enabled  to  explain,  with  the  aid  of  some  slight 
stimulant. 

A  crowd  in  the  street  had  obstructed  his  path,  as 
he  walked  pensively  along  with  his  eyes  cast  down. 
Looking  up,  a  vision  of  beauty  burst  upon  his  ravished 
sight,  and  he  stood  entranced  as  he  gazed  upon  it ;  and 
when  it  passed  away  with  the  crowd,  he  climbed  upon  an 
omnibus  and  watched  that  object,  through  his  tunneled 
hand,  until  it  became  indistinct  and  lost  in  the  distance. 
That  object  was  a  BLOOMER  !  He  had  long  ardently 
wished  for  this  opportunity.  In  visions  of  the  night  had 
angels  in  short  dresses  and  trousers  thrust  themselves 
among  his  sleeping  fancies,  to  the  bewilderment  of  his 
waking  thoughts.  It  had  become  the  great  idea  of  his 
mind,  and  all  his  other  thoughts  bowed  to  this,  as  did 
the  sheaves  of  the  Israelitish  brethren  to  the  sheaf  of 
Joseph  of  old.  He  had  at  last  seen  a  Bloomer.  The 
climax  of  his  earthly  desire  was  attained.  The  driver  of 


THE   SENSITIVE   MAN    SEES   A    BLOOMER.          103 

the  'bus,  callous  to  the  emotion  of  his  bosom,  asked  him 
"what'n  thunder  he  was  a- looking  at,  up  there?" 
The  Sensitive  Man  made  but  one  step  to  the  ground,  so 
buoyant  was  he,  and  he  bounded  like  cork.  He  could 
have  leaped  over  the  State-House.  Little  boys  and 
sedate  passengers  stepped  back  dismayed,  and  a  gentle- 
man in  a  black  coat  and  white  neckcloth  looked  around 
anxiously  after  a  policeman.  What  were  policemen  to 
the  Sensitive  Man?  Those  terrific  functionaries  were 
nothing  !  Even  the  cold  reality  of  a  watch-house  floor 
would  be  soft  as  down,  could  he  carry  with  him  the 
consciousness  that  he  had  seen  a  Bloomer.  He  looked 
to  see  if  her  passing  figure  had  not  left  its  impression,  in 
aerial  portraiture,  upon  the  impalpable  atmosphere.  He 
looked  upon  the  pave  to  detect  the  print  of  her  charming 
foot  upon  the  insensate  bricks.  But  she  had  fled,  like 
some  bright  exhalation  of  the  morning,  and  he  turncxl 
back  sorrowing.  A  coach  came  nigh  running  over  him. 
The  tension  of  his  spirit  relaxed,  —  enduring  only  to 
bring  him  within  the  precinct  of  his  vocation,  when  his 
too  sensitive  nature  gave  out,  and  the  result  was  as 
explained  above. 

And  hourly,  since,  has  he  longingly  gazed  from  the 
window,  in  ardent  hope  of  seeing  again  the  beauteous 
vision  which  had  enthralled  him,  and  disappointment, 


1  like  a  worm  in  the  mud, 


Feeds  on  his  damaged  cheek." 


104  POWER   OP   ATTORNEY. 


POWER  OF  ATTORNEY. 

WHEN  the  widow  Ames  bad  been  notified  tbat  ber 
sbare  of  tbe  Paul  Jones  prize-money  would  be  paid  her 
upon  presenting  herself  at  the  Dummer  Bank,  she  de- 
bated in  her  own  mind,  —  though  the  debate  never  was 
reported,  — whether  she  should  go  herself  or  give  a 
\^ower  of  attorney  to  some  one  else  to  receive  the  eleven 
dollars  and  sixty- two  cents  that  was  her  share.  In  this 
strait  she  called  on  Mrs.  Partington,  who  she  knew 
had  authorized  a  person  to  settle  the  Beanville  estate  for 
her  when  the  Beanville  Railroad  had  driven  her  from 
the  homestead. 

11  Go  yourself,  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  bringing  the 
poker  down  emphatically  upon  the  bail  of  the  tea-kettle, 
as  she  was  clearing  out  the  ashes  from  the  stove ; 
"don't  trust  to  nobody  but  yourself,  for," — raising 
the  poker,  —  "if  you  give  anybody  power  of  eternity, 
depend  upon  it  you  won't  never  see  the  final  conclusion 
of  it." 

The  poker  fell  again  upon  the  harmless  tea-kettle, 
which  seemed  to  sing  out  with  reproach  for  the  outrage, 
and  Ike,  who  was  looking  slyly  into  the  back  window, 
wondered  if  Mrs.  Ames  was  n't  sitting  on  a  favorite  piece 
of  spruce  gum  of  his,  and  whether  it  would  n't  stick  her 
to  the  chair  so  that  she  could  n't  get  up.  It  showed 
that  the  boy  had  a  reflective  turn  of  mind. 


THE    NEW    DRESS   FOR   LADIES.  105 


THE  NEW  DRESS  FOR  LADIES. 

"A  NEW  custom  for  ladies!"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
when  a  friend  spoke  to  her  about  the  proposed  innovation 
in  dress.  The  sound  of  "  costume  "  came  to  her  ear  in- 
distinctly, and  she  slightly  misapprehended  the  word. 
"Anew  custom  for  ladies!  I  should  think  they  had 
better  reform  many  of  their  old  customs  before  they  try 
to  get  new  ones.  We  're  none  of  us  better  than  we  ought 
to  be,  and  " 

"  Costume,  ma'am,  I  said,"  cried  her  informant,  in- 
terrupting her;  "they  are  thinking  of  changing  their 
dress." 

"  Well,  for  my  part  I  don't  see  what  they  want  to 
make  a  public  thing  of  it  for ;  changing  the  dress  used 
to  be  a  private  matter;  but  folks  do  so  alter  !  They  are 
always  a  changing  dresses  now,  like  the  caterpillar  in 
the  morning  that  turns  into  a  butterfly  at  night,  or  the 
butterfly  at  night  that  turns  to  a  caterpillar  in  the  morn- 
ing, I  don't  know  which"  —  - 

"  But,"  again  interrupted  her  informant,  "  I  mean 
they  are  a  going  to  have  a  new  dress." 

"  0,  they  are,  are  they  ?  "  replied  the  old  lady ;  "  well, 
I  'm  sure  I'm  glad  on  it,  if  they  can  afford  it ;  but  they 
don't  always  think  enough  of  this.  A  good  many  can't 
afford  it  —  they  can't !  But  did  you  hear  of  the  new 
apperil  for  wimmin  that  somebody  is  talking  about  1  " 


106  THE    NEW    DUESS    FOH    LADIES. 

"Why,  my  dear  Mrs.  P.,"  said  he,  smiling,  "that  is 
just  what  I  was  trying  to  get  your  opinion  about." 

"  Then,"  returned  she,  "  why  did  n't  you  say  so  in  the 
first  place  1  Well,  I  don't  know  why  a  woman  can't  be 
as  vertuous  in  a  short  dress  as  in  a  long  one  ;  and  it  will 
save  some  trouble  in  wet  weather  to  people  who  have  to 
lift  their  dresses  and  show  their  ankles.  It  may  do  for 
young  critters,  as  sportive  as  lambs  in  a  pasture ;  but 
only  think  how  I  should  look  in  short  coats  arid  trousers, 
should  n't  I  ?  And  old  Mrs.  Jones,  who  weighs  three 
hundred  pounds,  wouldn't  look  well  in  'em  neither. 
But  I  say  let  'em  do  just  what  they  please  as  long  as 
they  don't  touch  my  dress.  I  like  the  old  way  best,  and 
that 's  the  long  and  the  short  of  it." 

She  here  cast  a  glance  at  the  profile  on  the  wall,  as 
if  for  its  approval  of  her  resolution;  and  an  idea  for  a 
moment  seemed  to  cross  her  mind  that  he,  the  ancient 
corporal,  would  not  know  her,  were  he  to  visit  sublunar 
scenes  and  find  her  arrayed  in  the  new  dress ;  and  her 
compressed  lips  showed  the  determination  of  her  heart  to 
abide  by  the  old  costume,  and  she  solemnly  and  slowly 
took  an  energetic  pinch  of  snuff,  as  if  to  confirm  it. 


PSYCHOLOGY.  107 


PSYCHOLOGY. 

SENSITIVE  people  talk  about  feeling,  in  the  presence 
or  atmosphere  of  a  man,  the  peculiar  disposition  that 
governs  him,  —  whether  a  gentle  or  a  stern  one, 
whether  a  hypocritical  or  a  knavish  one.  We  have 
realized,  in  some  degree,  what  the  feeling  must  be,  as 
we  have,  at  times,  elbowed  our  way  among  the  gentle- 
men who  throng  about  State  or  "Wall  street.  The 
atmosphere  was  so  hard  that  we  shrank  at  once  into  our 
empty  pocket,  —  a  thing  which  finds  no  sympathy  in 
those  diggings,  —  and  escaped  as  fast  as  possible.  We 
could  read  every  disposition  that  we  rubbed  against,  like 
a  book,  or  as  well  as  the  most  subtle  magician  could  do 
it.  The  dollar  was  the  idea  that  every  brain  was  work- 
ing and  struggling  to  coin  itself  into  ;  the  dollar  gleamed 
in  every  eager  glance  of  the  eye,  and  was  heard  in  every 
word;  the  dollar  was  the  sun  that  shone  and  the  air 
that  blew ;  and  though  celestial  choirs  had  been  at  hand, 
chanting  the  music  of  the  spheres,  unless  it  had  the  right 
chink  to  it,  it  would  not  have  been  regarded.  Let 
sensitive  ones  who  have  no  money  go  down  upon  'change 
and  try  the  experiment.  It  will  not  make  them  any 
poorer,  though  most  certainly  they  will  not  be  any  richer 
by  it. 


MATTER    OF    FACT. 


MATTER  OF   FACT. 

"  SHAKSPEARE  's  well  enough,"  said  Mr.  Slow,  "  but 
he  don't  come  up  to  my  idee  of  po'try.  There  is  too 
much  of  your  hifalutin  humbug  about  him.  What  he 
says  don't  seem  to  'mount  to  nothing.  As  for  Falstaff, 
he's  a  miser'ble  and  disreputable  old  fellow,  and  Hamlick's 
as  mad  as  a  bed-bug.  Why  did  n't  he  knock  his  old 
father-in-law  over,  and  done  with  it,  and  not  make  sich  a 
hillibolu  about  it  ?  Shakspeare  is  n't  what  he  is  cracked 
up  to  be,  and  if  he  does  n't  improve,  I  would  n't  give  two 
per  cent,  for  his  chance  of  immortality.  Who  b'leves 
this  'ere,  for  instance  ? 

'  Orpheus'  lute  was  strung  with  poets'  sinews, 
Whose  golden  touch  could  soften  steel  and  stones, 
Make  tigers  tame,  and  huge  levithians 
Forsake  unsounded  deeps  to  dance  on  sand!  ' 

That 's  all  gammon.  Poets'  sinews,  indeed  !  Dare  say 
't  was  n't  nothin'  but  catgut ;  and  as  for  its  softening 
steel  and  stones,  and  taming  tigers,  and  making  levithians 
dance  on  the  sand,  that  'ere 's  all  bosh,  and  too  ridic'lous 
for  any  man  to  b'leve." 

Mr.  Slow  looked  fearfully  oracular  as  he  said  this,  and 
the  subject  was  suspended. 


THE    CAT    AND    KITTENS.  109 


THE   CAT  AND   KITTENS. 

BEFORE  Ike  dropped  the  cat,  it  was  a  matter  of  much 
annoyance  to  Mrs.  Partington,  upon  coming  down  stairs 
one  morning,  to  find  a  litter  of  kittens  in  her  Indian 
work-basket,  beside  her  black  Sunday  bonnet,  and  upon 
the  black  gloves  and  handkerchief,  long  consecrate  to 
grief.  Ike  had  left  the  basket  uncovered,  during  a 
search  for  some  thread  to  make  a  snare  to  catch  a  pigeon 
with.  Her  temper  was  stirred  by  the  circumstance,  as 
what  good,  tidy  housekeeper's  would  not  have  been  by 
such  an  occurrence? 

"  I  '11  drownd  'em,"  said  she,  "  every  one  of  'em  !  0, 
you  wicked  creatur  !"  continued  she,  raising  her  finger, 
and  shaking  it  at  the  cat ;  "0,  you  wicked  creatur,  to 
serve  me  such  a  trick  !  " 

But  the  cat,  happy  in  the  joys  of  maternity,  purred 
gladly  among  her  offspring,  and  looked  upon  the  old  lady, 
through  her  half-closed  eyes,  as  if  she  did  n't  really  see 
any  cause  for  such  a  fuss. 

"Isaac,"  said  the  dame,  "take  the  big  tub,  and 
drownd  them  kittens." 

There  was  determination  in  her  eye,  and  authority  in 
her  tone,  and  Ike  clapped  his  hands  as  he  hastened  to 
obey  he?. 

"  Stop,  Isaac,  a  minute,"  she  cried,  "  and  I  '11  take 
the  chill  off  the  water ;  it  would  be  cruel  to  put  'em  into 
it  stone-cold." 

10 


110  A    POINT   SETTLED. 

She  took  the  steaming  kettle  from  the  stove,  and 
emptied  it  into  the  tub,  and  then  left  the  rest  to  Ike. 
But  she  reproached  herself  for  her  inhumanity  long 
afterwards,  and  could  not  bear  to  look  the  childless  cat 
in  the  face,  and  many  a  dainty  bit  did  that  injured 
animal  receive  from  her  mistress.  Mrs.  Partington 
perhaps  did  wrong,  as  who  hasn't  at  some  period  of  life? 
Perfection  belongeth  not  to  man  or  woman,  and  we  would 
throw  this  good  pen  of  ours  into  the  street,  and  never 
take  another  in  our  fingers,  could  we  pretend  that  Mrs. 
Partington  was  an  exception  to  this  universal  rule. 


A  POINT   SETTLED. 

DK.  DIGG —  for  whose  researches  the  world  can 
never  be  grateful  enough  —  has  been  studying  out  the 
genealogy  of  the  great  family  of  Co.,  which  occupies 
such  a  distinguished  mercantile  position.  This  family  is 
scattered  the  world  over,  and  almost  every  sign  in  every 
city  bears  the  name  of  one  of  them  as  partner.  He 
traces  their  genealogy  back  to  Jericho,  of  Palestine 
(modern  Jeremiah  Co.,  or,  for  shortness,  Jerry  Co.), 
whom  we  find  frequently  mentioned  in  ancient  books. 
The  doctor  expresses  the  belief  that  the  exclusive  busi- 
ness habits  of  the  family  may  be  attributed  to  their 
Jewish  extraction. 


MORAL   TRAINING. 


Ill 


MORAL   TRAINING. 

fORAL  training,"  said  Mrs. 
iPartington,  "is  the  best, 
arter  all."  She  had  heard 
some  one  in  the  omnibus 
speaking  of  moral  training, 
"and  her  benevolence  gave 
fit  into  the  charge  of  mem- 
lory  until  she  got  home, 
land  memory  revolved  it, 
and  pondered  it,  and  re- 
viewed it,  and  fancy  con- 
strued it  to  mean  some- 
thing about  the  military  training  that  was  to  come  off  the 
next  day. 

"I  hope  it  will  be  a  moral  training,  I'm  shore," 
said  she;  "for  I  see  the  Gov'nor  is  to  be  there  in 
his  new  suit,  and  I  hope  they  '11  make  their  revolutions 
well  before  him.  I  do  admire  the  millintery,  where  the 
sogers  in  their  fancy  unicorns  look  jest  like  a  patchwork 
quilt.  They  was  n't  moral  trainings  in  old  times,  when 
men  put  '  enemies  into  their  heads  to  steal  away  theii 
hats,'  as  Mr.  Smooth,  the  schoolmaster,  used  to  say 
Your  Uncle  Paul  had  a  good  deal  of  millintery  sperrit 
sometimes,  Isaac." 

Ike  had  remained  very  quiet  while  she  was  speaking 
"What  upon  airth   are   you   doing  there,   Isaac?' 
cried  she. 


112  A    LITTLE   TRUTH. 

The  young  gentleman  readily  told  her  he  was  painting 
a  horse,  at  the  same  time  displaying  an  animal,  nomin- 
ally of  that  description,  done  beautifully  in  blue,  which 
he  appeared  to  look  on  with  much  satisfaction. 

"  But  what  are  you  painting  it  with?  As  true  as  I  'm 
alive  you  've  got  your  Uncle  Paul's  tompion  that  he 
used  to  wear  in  his  cap  so  long  ago,  and  you  're  using 
up  all  my  bluing  !  " 

That  pompon,  saved  for  so  many  years,  to  be  used  for 
such  a  purpose  !  Ah,  Ike,  Ike  !  we  fear  the  old  lady 
will  have  sad  times  with  thee  yet.  Why  didst  thou, 
yester  even,  secrete  the  large  ball  of  yarn  for  thine  own 
purposes,  which  to-morrow  she  will  seek  for  in  vain? 
Say,  why  ? 


A  LITTLE   TRUTH. 

"  THERE  's  something  for  us  all  to  do,"  is  the  heading 
of  a  poem  in  the  papers  —  a  subject  which  seems  to  have 
more  of  truth  than  poetry  in  it.  There  are  exceptions, 
however,  to  the  rule;  for  a  very  seedy  gentleman  with  a 
very  red  nose  told  us,  one  day,  that  he  could  n't  get  a 
thing  to  do.  The  man  appeared  strong,  and  so  did  his 
breath.  But  there  are  many  worthy  people  who  cannot 
find  their  proportion- of  the  "something  for  all  to  do," 
and  suppose  some  philanthropist  is  doing  it  for  them. 


HAIR-DRESSING.  113 


HAIR-DRESSING. 

"  WHAT  a  queer  place  this  Boston  is  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  when  she  first  came  here  from  the  country. 
"  I  was  walking  along  the  street  just  now,  and  saw  on  a 
sign  '  Hair-Dressing.'  •'  Something  like  guano,  I  guess, 
for  the  hair,'  said  I  to  myself.  '  I  declare,  I  'm  a  good 
mind  to  look  at  some.'  So  I  went  in  and  asked  a  dear, 
pretty  young  man,  smelling  as  sweet  as  catnip,  to  let  me 
look  at  some  of  his  hair  manure,  —  I  wanted  to  be  as 
polite  as  possible.  Gracious  !  how  he  stared  at  me,  just 
as  if  I  'd  a  been  a  Hottenpot,  or  a  wild  Arad.  '  I  mean 
your  h&ir-dressmg,'  sa^d  I. 

"  '  0,  ah,  yes  !  '  said  he ;  '  set  down  here  in  the  big 
chair,  mem,  —  scratch,  perhaps,  mem  ! ' 

"'Scratch,'  said  I,  completely  dumbfounded;  'you 
saucy  fellow  !  I  can  do  all  my  own  scratching,  and  some 
of  yourn,  too,  if  you  say  that  agin,  —  scratch,  indeed  !  ' 
—  and  I  went  right  down  the  stairs." 

She  never  before  had  hinted  that  she  stood  in  need  of 
any  hair  tonic,  though  everybody  knew  that  she  had  worn 
a  wig  for  twenty  years. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  says  that  it  makes  no  difference  to 
her  if  flour  is  dear  or  cheap,  she  always  has  to  pay  the 
same  price  for  half  a  dollar's  worth. 
10* 


114  OMNIBUS-RIDlXa. 


OMNIBUS-RIDING. 

'T  IS  a  rainy  morning,  and,  health  considered,  we 
think  we  '11  ride.  The  'bus  heaves  in  sight,  and  we  look 
anxiously  through  the  dusty  windows,  to  see  a  dense 
packing  of  humanity,  in  one  long  lane  that  has  no  turn- 
ing, occupying  the  inside.  The  driver  pulls  up  as  Ave 
wave  our  cane,  —  he  has  been  watching  us  for  some 
distance,  calculating  on  the  chances  of  a  summons,  —  and, 
peering  down  from  his  perch,  through  the  ticket-hole, 
ascertains  that  there  is  room  for  one  more.  There 
always  is.  We  take  heart  at  the  announcement,  and 
mount  the  steps,  while  the  door  swings  open  to  admit  us. 
"  Calculated  to  hold  twelve  persons "  beams  upon  us 
from  the  front  of  the  vehicle,  whether  nature  in  framing 
the  "persons"  bore  the  'bus-maker's  limit  in  mind  or 
not.  It  must  hold  twelve,  irrespective  of  size.  There 
are  but  eleven  inside,  and  we  make  the  twelfth,  but 
where  to  sit?  Six  lean  "  persons  "  occupy  one  side,  and 
five  fat  ones  the  other.  Of  course  our  place  is  with  the 
five,  and  they  seem  conscious  of  it,  —  they  have  read  the 
arbitrary  inscription,  —  and  crowd  one  another,  and 
squat  their  sides  to  the  smallest  squeezable  limit  to 
admit  us,  and,  just  as  the  'bus  starts,  we  fall  plump 
between  a  very  fiery-looking  old  gentleman,  and  a  lady 
of  unromantic  years,  and  biliously  wicked-looking  withal. 
Something  cracks  in  the  old  gentleman's  pocket,  and  a 
growl  greets  us  from  him,  while,  with  half  of  our  "  per- 


OMNIBUS-RIDING.  115 

son  "  resting  upon  the  lady's  carpet-bag,  we  are  made 
sensible  of  a  sharp  elbow,  and  the  ejaculation  "  0. 
Lord  !  "  uttered  in  a  tone  between  a  prayer  and  a  re- 
proach. Of  course  we've  a  right  there,  for,  isn't  the 
coach  bound  to  hold  twelve,  and  won't  we  give  "one  pull 
for  the  right  "  before  we  '11  give  it  up?  That 's  a  beau- 
tiful face  opposite, — a  glimpse  convinces  us  of  this, — 
but  we  cannot  stare  at  her ;  good  manners  forbid  it  ! 
There  is  a  glass  beneath  the  driver's  seat,  and  here  the 
pretty  face  in  duplicate  appears,  and  we  gaze  upon  it 
unnoted. 

We  are  now  reminded  of  the  presence  of  the  collector 
of  the  tickets,  who  touches  our  shoulder,  and  looks 
significantly  without  saying  anything.  He  was  never 
known  to  say  anything  but  twice  in  his  lite,  it  is  said,  — 
once  to  inform  a  man  in  the  'bus  that  it  was  cold,  and 
again,  in  a  confidential  whisper,  to  hint  that  it  was 
unpleasant.  We  struggle  to  reach  the  pocket  which 
contains  our  ticket;  but  the  mass  that  hems  us  in  won't 
move,  and,  in  a  spasmodic  effort  to  entrap  the  card, 
three  buttons  are  sacrificed,  and  a  bonnet  disturbed  in  its 
position.  We  laugh  at  some  pleasant  allusion  of  our 
own  about  clumsiness ;  but  the  laugh  appears  only  upon  one 
side,  and  we  relapse  into  silence,  and  look  in  the  glass 
beneath  the  driver's  seat.  Thank  Heaven  !  the  big  man 
here  pulls  the  string,  and  sturdily  tramples  over  quies- 
cent toes  in  his  egress.  Then  the  lady  with  the  carpet- 
bag pulls  vehemently,  in  a  vain  effort  to  jerk  the  driver 
through,  and  she  gets  out.  Then  another,  and  another, 
until  all  are  gone  but  us,  — the  pretty  girl  last,  — and 
we  are  captain  of  the  ship,  all  the  difficulties  of  our 


116  AURIFEROUS    MEDITATIONS. 

outset  merged  in  the  triumphant  consciousness  that  we 
have  room.  What  do  we  care  now  about  how  many  the 
'bus  will  hold?  We  snap  our  fingers  at  the  insulting 
rule  that  would  curtail  humanity,  and  gaze  upon  the 
other  inscription,  that  enjoins  the  pull  for  the  right; 
then  pull  the  string  magnificently,  the  coach  stops,  and 
we  descend  among  the  pedestrians,  not  a  whit  inflated  by 
our  momentary  exaltation. 


AURIFEROUS   MEDITATIONS. 

"  GOLDEN  airs  of  Californy,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
as  she  read  in  the  Post  an  advertisement  of  some  new 
music;  "  such  airs,  I  should  think,  Avould  be  very  re- 
plenishing, and  I  wish  a  draft  of  'em  would  blow  this 
way.  What  a  country  that  Colifarny  is  !  "  murmured 
she,  in  a  half  reverie,  in  which  golden  visions,  like  the 
sunshine  reflections  on  the  kitchen  wall,  from  her  teacup, 
Avere  dancing  through  her  brain.  "  What  a  queer  thing ! 
where  gold  is  so  plenty  they  pick  it  up  in  quarts  on 
American  Forks,  —  Connetticut  ones,  I  dare  say ;  but 
spoons,  I  should  think,  would  be  a  good  deal  better." 
Of  course  it  would.  Strange  that  the  miners  didn't 
think  of  this  in  the  first  place.  Many  a  valuable  sug- 
gestion of  hers  has  benefited  the  world;  though  the 
Avorld  was  not  aware  of  its  indebtedness  until  she  said. 
"  I  always  thought  so;"  and  this  coming  late,  she  never 
got  the  credit  for  it. 


IKE   AND   THE    ORANGES.  117 


IKE  AND  THE   ORANGES. 

"I  CAN'T  conceive,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  standing 
up  on  tiptoe,  and  pushing  aside  the  antique  wash-bowl 
that  stood  on  the  front  shelf  in  the  old  cupboard  in  the 
corner,  and  rattling  the  papers  of  seeds,  and  the  teacups, 
and  the  plates,  and  looking  into  the  dark  corners,  and 
feeling  in,  also,  to  be  certain.  When  she  said  she 
"  could  n't  conceive,"  it  was  but  part  of  the  sentence  that 
she  wished  to  speak ;  the  earnestness  of  her  search  had 
suspended  the  remainder  of  it. 

"  I  can't  conceive  where  those  oranges  are,"  said  she, 
"  that  the  young  ladies  sent  me  —  Heaven  bless  'em  !  — 
they  were  so  good  to  lucubrate  the  throat  with  when  it  'a 
dry  and  hot  with  the  information  that  comes  with  a  cough. 
It  is  strange  where  they  have  gone.  If  I  believed  in 
superhumorous  things  I  should  say  the  spirits  had  got 
'em  ;  but  they  would  n't  take  mine  when  they  could  go 
so  easy  Avhere  they  grow  and  get  as  many  as  they 
want." 

She  stopped  her  search  amid  the  dust,  and  regaled 
her  nose  with  dust  of  a  more  fragrant  character. 

' '  What  are  you  doing,  Isaac  ?  ' '  said  she,  as  she  saw 
him  forming  a  star  out  of  an  orange  upon  the  closet 
door,  and  using  up  her  pump  tacks.  The  boy  pointed 
to  his  handiwork,  and  the  delight  she  felt  for  his  genius 
blinded  her  eyes  to  the  possibility  of  how  he  might  havo 
come  by  the  oranges. 


118  PATRIOTISM. 


PATRIOTISM. 

A  YANKEE  gentleman,  convoying  a  British  friend 
around  to  view  the  different  objects  of  attraction  in  the 
vicinity  of  Boston,  brought  him  to  Bunker  Hill.  They 
stood  looking  at  the  splendid  shaft,  when  the  Yankee 
said, 

"  That  is  the  place  where  Warren  fell." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  the  Englishman,  evidently  not  posted 
up  in  local  historical  matters;  "did  it  hurt  him 
much?" 

The  native  looked  at  him,  with  the  expression  of  four- 
teen Fourth  of  Julys  in  his  countenance.  "  Hurt  him  !  " 
said  he,  "  he  was  killed,  sir." 

"  Ah  !  he  was,  eh  ?  "  said  the  stranger,  still  eying  the 
monument,  and  computing  its  height,  in  his  own  mind^ 
layer  by  layer;  "well,  I  should  think  he  would  have 
been,  to  fall  so  far." 

The  native  tore  his  hair,  but  it  gave  him  a  good  op- 
portunity to  enlarge  upon  the  glorious  events  connected 
with  the  hill,  and  the  benefits  therefrom  flowing  to  our 
somewhat  extensive  country,  and  he  soon  talked  himself 
into  good-humor. 


KEEP  your  eyes  wide  open  for  the  truth ;  let  it  come 
down  into  your  mind  like  the  sunlight,  to  illumine  all  of 
its  dark  corners.  "  Buy  the  truth,  and  sell  it  not " 


DULL   BUSINESS.  110 


DULL  BUSINESS. 

A  LONG  time  ago.  in  an  old  town  we  wot  of,  there  lived 
a  man  of  humble  means,  —  there  are  some  poor  people 
there  now,  —  and,  in  pity  for  his  need,  he  was  made  sex- 
ton of  the  church  of  which  he  was  a  member.  The 
times  were  dull,  his  salary  was  low,  and  he  found  it 
hard  work  to  make  both  ends  meet.  He  called  upon  the 
members  of  the  church,  but  they  could  not  or  would  not 
do  anything  for  his  relief.  As  a  last  resort  he  called 
upon  the  minister  and  told  him  his  troubles,  and  how 
hard  he  found  it  to  get  along.  The  minister  heard  his 
story,  but,  instead' of  relieving  his  wants,  or  telling  him 
how  to  do  it,  went  to  arguing  with  him  about  the  unrea- 
sonableness of  his  complaint. 

"Why,"  says  he,  "don't  you  have,  besides  your 
salary,  a  number  of  perquisites  1  Are  you  not  paid  for 
ringing  the  bell  on  the  Fourth  of  July  and  other  public 
celebrations  ?  And  are  you  not  paid,  too,  for  your  services 
at  funerals,  when  any  occur  in  our  society?" 

"  True,"  said  the  dolorous  sexton,  looking  up  solemnly; 
' '  but  I  have  little  hope  from  this  source,  for,  confound 
it,  none  of  our  society  ever  die  !  " 

The  poor  fellow  went  away  sorrowing,  thinking,  prob- 
ably, that  Providence  was  rather  hard  on  him  in  not  kill- 
ing off  half  the  parish  that  he  might  have  the  profit  of 
burying  them. 


ANTIQUITY   IN    A    SHOWER. 


ANTIQUITY   IN   A   SHOWER. 

RS.  PARTINGTON  attended  the 
dedication  of  Mount  Hope 
Cemetery,  in  Dorchester,  and 
got  wet  with  the  rain.  No 
sheltering  umbrella  was  there 
to  hold  its  broad  surface  above 
her  venerable  head ;  and  the 
rain,  all  regardless  of  her 
august  presence,  poured  down 
If  relentlessly.  But  we  will  let 
her  tell  the  story  in  her  own 


"  The  seminary  would  have  been  dictated,  but,  by  an 
imposition  of  divine  Providence,  the  bottles  of  heaven 
were  uncorked  and  the  rains  fell  as  if  another  delusion 
was  agoing  to  destroy  the  world.  The  lightning  blazed 
horridly,  and  everybody  was  filled  with  constipation. 
Not  a  shelter  to  be  had  !  I  tried  to  lean  over  and  get 
my  bonnet  under  a  gentleman's  umbrel,  in  front  of  me, 
and  the  water  all  run  down  into  my  back  like  a  spout, 
till  I  was  satiated  through  and  through  like  an  old  boot. 
Cold  chills  run  over  me  as  if  I  had  an  ager,  and,  0 
dear  !  look  at  that  bonnet." 

Certainly  the  faded  remnant  had  wilted,  the  pasteboard 
that  formed  the  crown  had  relaxed  and  shook  flabbily 
as  we  held  it,  and  irreparable  decay  seemed  written 
upon  it. 


THE    NATIONAL    EPIC.  121 

"  It  never  will  be  fit  to  be  seen  again !  "  said  she. 
and  we  fancied  a  tone  of  deeper  sorrow  in  her  words,  as 
she  looked  straight  up  at  the  stiff  old  corporal  on  the 
wall,  whom  this  antique  crape  commemorated.  Heaven 
bless  thee,  Mrs.  Partington  !  we  thought,  and  felt  round 
our  capacious  pocket  for  a  dollar  to  leave  with  her,  but. 
as  it  usually  happens  when  our  benevolence  comes  on. 
we  found  none,  and  came  away  with  a  paper  pinned  to 
our  coat-tail  by  that  "  everlasting  Ike." 


THE   NATIONAL   EPIC. 

"1  CAN'T  see  through  it,"  said  Mrs.  Partingfon,  with 
a  reflective  nod  of  her  head,  and  her  eyes  earnestly  bent 
upon  the  keyhole  of  the  closet  door,  as  if  that  were  the 
object  she  could  not  see  through.  She  had  just  learned 
the  report  of  the  committee  upon  the  prize  poem  propo- 
sition of  Mr.  Latham,  and  the  loss  of  $500  to  the  musical 
genius  of  the  country.  "I  can't  see  why  somebody 
could  n't  have  written  an  epic  poem,  when  there  is  so 
many  beautiful  epicac  poets  in  the  country.  Dear  me,  the 
older  I  grow,  —  and  I  never  shall  see  fifty-seven  again, 
—  I  'm  convinced  that  genius  is  n't  thought  half  enough 
of,  and  that  versatanity  of  talent  and  great  power  of 
versuffocation  is  n't  rewarded  as  it  ought  to  be."  This 
was  said  in  compliment  to  Wideswarth,  who,  it  was  half 
suspected,  had  put  in  for  the  prize,  and  he  bowed  mod- 
estly, as  he  placed  his  hand  in  the  vicinity  of  his  heart, 
and  felt  in  his  vest  pocket  for  a  tooth-pick. 
11 


122  THE   MAINE    LIQUOR   BILL. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AND  THE  MAINE 
LIQUOR  BILL. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  was  in  the  gallery  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  when  the  Maine  liquor  law  was  under 
discussion.  The  member  from  Cranberry  Centre  was 
very  attentive  to  the  old  dame,  and  replied  to  her  ques- 
tions concerning  the  Maine  liquor  law,  and  spoke  of  the 
various  provisions  of  the  bill.  "Provisions?"  said  the 
kind  old  dame,  tapping  her  box  gently,  "I  never  heerd 
there  was  any  provisions  mentioned  in  the  bill ;  though 
I  dare  say  there  is,  for  Paul  used  to  say  that  give  old 
Mr.  Tipple  a  pint  of  rum,  it  would  be  vittals  and  drink 
and  house- rent  for  a  week ;  and  I  b'lieve  it  was  so,  for, 
only  give  him  rum  enough,  he  'd  never  ask  for  bread. 
I  remember,  too,"  continued  the  old  lady,  raising  her 
voice,  as  she  saw  Mr.  Batkins  about  to  interrupt  her,  — 
"  they  used  always  to  put  rum  and  tobacco  into  their 
provision  bills,  in  old  times,  when  they  went  a  fishing, 
and  I  s'pose  this  putting  provisions  into  the  liquor  bill  is 
'bout  the  same  thing."  She  looked  at  Mr.  Batkins,  and 
smiled,  as  she  saw  him  looking  smilingly  at  her,  and  they 
both  smiled  at  each  other. 

"  The  provisions  meant,  mem,"  said  the  member, 
impressively,  "  are  provisions  of  law." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  the  old  lady,  musingly,  as  she  took 
the  third  pinch,  and  handed  the  box  to  Mr.  Batkins, 
"yea,  yes,  I've  heerd  of  folks  bein'  bread  to  the  law 


TAKE  THINGS  EASY.  123 

afore,  though  a  good  many  of  'em  is  more  like  vegeta- 
bles. But" Here  the  speaker's  mallet  attracted 

her  attention,  and  she  listened  to  the  reading  of  part  of 
the  liquor  bill,  watching  carefully  for  the  items.  "  Is 
that  the  liquor  bill?  "  asked  she,  in  an  incredulous  tone, 
of  her  friend,  the  member  ;  "is  that  it?"  He  assured 
her  that  it  was.  "Well,"  continued  she,  as  she  rose  to 
go,  "I  must  say  that  I  never  see  a  bill  made  out  in  that 
way  afore." 

Mr.  Batkins  handed  her  out,  and  she  remarked  to 
Mr.  Verigreen,  whom  she  met  on  the  stairs,  that  she  had 
come  to  hear  the  liquor  bill,  and  they  were  reading  a 
new  chapter,  that  she  'd  never  read,  in  the  book  of 
Acts. 


TAKE  THINGS   EASY. 

"  I  NEVER  knowed  anything  gained  by  being  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry,"  said  Mrs.  Partington.  "  When  me 
and  my  dear  Paul  was  married,  he  was  in  such  a  tripi- 
dation  that  he  came  nigh  marrying  one  of  the  brides- 
maids instead  of  me,  by  mistake.  He  was  such  a  queer 
man  !  "  she  continued.  "  Why,  he  joined  the  fire  apart- 
ment, and  one  night  in  his  hurry  he  put  his  boots  on 
hind  part  afore ;  and,  as  he  ran  along,  everybody  behind 
him  got  tripped  up.  The  papers  were  full  of  crowner'a 
quests  on  broken  legs  and  limbs,  for  a  week  afterwards," 
—  and  she  relapsed  into  an  abstraction  on  the  ups  and 
downs  of  life. 


124  CARRIED   AWAY   WITH   MUSIC. 


CARRIED   AWAY  WITH   MUSIC. 

EVERYBODY  will  remember  the  organ-grinder's  little 
child,  who  was  carried  around,  seated  upon  the  instru- 
ment his  father  was  tuning,  his  young  heart  well  satis- 
fied with  things  as  they  were,  so  he  enjoyed  his  musical 
throne.  We  regret  to  say  that  this  habe  of  tender  years 
was  once  made  the  subject  of  as  cruel  a  joke  as  was  ever 
seen  in  print.  Our  friend,  Old  Roger,  was  concerned  in 
it,  too,  and  with  his  kind  feelings  't  is  a  wonder  he  could 
have  done  it.  PHILANTHROPOS  observed  Old  Roger 
standing  upon  the  sidewalk,  good-humoredly  beating  time 
to  a  lively  air  performed  by  the  man  of  the  organ,  and 
observing  the  dexterity  with  which  he  would  pick  up  a 
cent  and  not  lose  a  note. 

"  Sir,"  said  Philanthropes,  "observe  the  hard  fortune 
of  that  babe,  thus  chained  to  such  a  destiny ;  a  child 
with  a  soul  to  save  thus  risking  its  safety  by  breathing 
continually  such  abominable  airs.''' 

"I  know  it,"  said  Old  Roger,  in  his  way;  "  I  know 
it,  and  yet  the  little  fellow  seems  to  be  entirely  carried 
away  with  the  music." 

Philanthropes  immediately  left  him. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  IN  TROUBLE.        125 


MRS.   PARTINGTON   IN   TROUBLE. 

"TRYING  the  French  sea-steamer!  "  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  as  she  read  in  the  foreign  news  an  account  of  trial- 
trips  made  by  the  French  steamships.  She  has  always 
had  a  deep  interest  in  the  French,  since  Mr.  Lay  Mar- 
tin, as  she  calls  Larnartine,  has  been  driven  out  of  the 
provisional  government,  and  the  people  have  got  to  go 
back  to  frog  soup  again.  "  What  can  they  be  going  to 
try  them  for?"  continued  she.  "I  never  knowed  that 
steamboats  could  be  arranged  for  murder  and  such  things 
before,  though  I  don't  see  no  reason  why  they  should  n't, 
seeing  so  many  murders  come  from  their  arrangements. 
And  I  wish  they  'd  try  'em  all  before  they  do  the  mis- 
chief, and  concfemnation  '11  be  a  warning  to  'em,  just  as 
it  would  if  we  could  try  all  of  the  murderers,  and  hang 
'em  off  aforehand,  and  save  the  lives  of  their  innocent 
victims.  Isaac ! ' '  she  screamed,  as  a  snow-ball  struck 
the  window,  "don't  throw  your  snow  this  way!  "  and 
she  rushed  out  to  save  her  glass.  Alas !  she  was  a 
moment  too  soon,  for  a  snow-ball  struck  her  cap  as  she 
issued  from  the  door,  tore  it  from  her  head,  and  bore  it, 
with  its  strings  hanging  down,  far  from  her.  Her  hair, 
all  unconfined,  danced  madly  in  the  wind,  and  Mrs. 
Partington  for  a  moment  looked  every  witch  way.  Vir- 
tue is  of  little  account  unless  it  be  tried,  nor  is  patience. 
Mrs.  Partington  calmly  "  digested"  her  cap  on  her  head 
and  went  in. 

11* 


126  INFLUENZA. — AN  ANSWER. 


INFLUENZA. 

"I  DECLARE,  I  b'lieve  I  'm  going  to  have  the  influ- 
wednesday,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  tenderly  enveloping 
her  nose  in  her  cotton  bandanna,  previous  to  a  blast  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  Sam  Robinson's  stage-horn  in 
the  old  time.  "  'T  is  a  dreadful  feeling  to  have  your 
head  as  big  as  a  bucket  of  water,  and  your  nose  dropping 
like  the  eaves,  and  your  flesh  all  creepy  with  cold 
pimples,  like  a  child  with  the  mizzles.  Paul's  sister's 
child,  she  that  married  with  a  Smith,  had  the  distemper- 
ature  so  bad  that  they  had  to  put  cork  stoppers  in  his 
nostrils  to  keep  his  brains  from  running  out ! " 

She  was  here  "  brought  up  "  suddenly  with  a  fit  of 
coughing ;  the  knitting- work  was  laid  by  for  the  night, 
and  she  went  up  stairs  with  a  hot  brick  for  her  feet,  and 
a  little  preparation  of  something  hotter  for  her  stomach. 


AN   ANSWER. 

"  WHAT  do  they  call  them  dancers  the  corpse  de 
ballet  for?"  asked  Mr.  Verigreen  of  old  Roger,  at  the 
theatre.  The  old  fellow  was  watching  them  v  intently 
from  the  parquette,  with  a  double  magnifying  opera 
glass,  and  did  n't  wish  to  be  disturbed,  but  answered :  — • 
"  Because  no  live  dancers  can  jump  half  so  high  as  they 
can." 


MUTTON     CUSTARD.  127 


MUTTON   CUSTARD. 

"  As  regards  this  mutton  custard,"  said  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,  as-she  held  up  the  spoon  with  which  she  was  stirring 
the  preserves,  and  let  the  treacle  trickle  back  into  the 
kettle  in  syrupticious  ropiness,  and  stirred  it  again  till 
the  little  yellow  eyes  that  bubbled  on  the  top  seemed  to 
snap  and  wink  at  Ike  who  sat  whittling  a  stick  and  look- 
ing intently  at  the  operation,  till  his  mouth  watered 
again.  "Mutton  custard  !  "  and  she  smiled  as  the  idea 
stole  across  her  mind,  like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  in  sum- 
mer over  a  green  meadow  full  of  dandelion  blossoms  and 
butter-cups.  "  Some  new  regiment  for  sick  people, 
I  dare  say ;  but  I  hope  it  '11  be  better  than  the  custards 
that  widow  Grudge  used  to  make  for  the  poor,  God 
bless  'em  !  with  one  egg  to  a  quart  of  milk,  and  sweetened 
with  molasses,  and  thought  that  Heaven  itself  was  too 
small  an  emuneration  for  what  she  had  done.  But  mut- 
ton custard"  — 

"  It  is  Martin  Koszta,"  said  Ike,  who  had  read  the 
name  to  her  in  the  Post  of  that  individual  when  he  ar- 
rived in  Boston;  "  Koszta,  the  Hungarian." 

"Well,"  continued  she,  "  it  might  have  been  worse, 
as  the  girl  said  when  she  kissed  the  young  minister  by 
mistake,  in  the  dark  entry,  for  her  cousin  Betsey,  —  a 
mistake  is  no  haystack,  Isaac." 

Isaac  silently  admitted  the  truth  of  the  remark  as  he 


128  O.NT  THE  "  RELIGIOUS  TEST." 

thrust  the  stick  he  had  been  whittling  into  the  kettle3 
and  then  made  a  drawing  of  the  equatorial  line  across 
Sioth  cheeks  in  warm  molasses. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   ON  THE   "RELI- 
GIOUS  TEST." 

"  THE  religious  taste  among  politicians !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Partington,  as  her  opinion  was  asked  on  the  great 
question  that  was  then  agitating  the  people  of  New 
Hampshire ;  and  she  smiled  incredulously  as  she  an- 
swered, "  I  never  heerd  that  they  had  any  religious 
taste  at  all,  nor  religious  feeling,  nuther,  for  that  mutter. 
We  see  that  all  the  politicians  this  'ere  way  that  ever 
had  any  religion  has  give  it  all  up.  There  is  Parson 
Trot,  who  used  to  compound  the  gospel  up  in  the  old 
church,  has  come  out  a  politicioner,  and  where  is  his 
religious  taste,  now,  I  should  like  to  know?  and  there's 
lots  just  like  him  " 

"  But,  dear  madam,"  quoth  the  interrogator,  blandly, 
"I  didn't  mean  taste,  —  it  was  test  that  I  spoke 
about." 

She  inhaled  a  large  thumb  and  finger  full  of  her 
favorite  before  she  spoke.  "  Their  testiness,"  said  she, 
"  is  quite  another  thing,  and  none  of  'em  a'n't  no  better  'n 
they  ought  to  be." 

The  inquirer  left,  decidedly  impressed  with  the  orig- 
inality and  truth  of  her  remark. 


IDEA    OF   HUMOR.  —  CURIOSITY.  129 


MRS.  PARTINGTOIPS  IDEA  OF  HUMOR. 

"  WHAT  is  your  opinion  of  the  humor  of  Hawthorne, 
Mrs.  Partington  ? "  asked  a  young  neighbor  that  had 
been  reading  "  Twice-Told  Tales." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  looking  at  him  earnestly; 
"  but  if  you  have  got  it,  you  'd  better  take  something 
to  keep  it  from  striking  in.  Syrup  of  buckthorne  is  good 
for  all  sorts  of  diseases  of  that  kind.  I  don't  know  about 
the  humor  of  Hawthorne,  but  I  guess  the  buckthorne 
will  be  beneficious.  We  eat  too  much  butter,  and  butter 
is  very  humorous." 

There  was  a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice,  as  he  said  he 
would  try  her  remedy,  and  a  smile  might  have  been 
perceived  about  his  mouth,  next  day,  when  she  asked 
him,  with  a  solicitous  air  and  tone,  how  his  humor  was. 


A   GREAT   CURIOSITY. 

DR.  DIGG,  in  a  lecture  before  the  Spunkville  Lyceum, 
stated  it  as  an  interesting  fact,  and  as  indicative  of  the 
progress  of  the  age,  that  he  had,  in  a  recent  journey 
among  the  Green  Mountains,  discovered  a  SAGE  CHEESE. 
We  hope  the  doctor  will  be  induced  to  give  a  paper  upon 
the  subject  to  the  world.  Cheeses  have  often  been  noted 
for  their  activity,  but  none  of  them,  we  believe,  have 
ever  been  distinguished  for  their  profundity. 


130        MRS.  PARTINGTON    ON    EXTRADITION,  ETC. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   ON  EXTRADITION. 

"EXTRADITION  of  Sims!  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
she  paused  a  moment  before  the  bulletin  board  of  the 
Commonwealth,  during  the  great  excitement ;  "  I  don't 
see  Avhat  they  want  an  extra  edition  of  Sims  for,  when 
they  had  so  much  trouble  in  getting  off  the  first  one !  " 

"  'Ere's  the  Commonwealth,  fourth  edition  !  "  bawled 
a  newsboy  in  her  ear. 

She  raised  her  umbrella  with  a  menacing  air,  for  the 
noise  was  strange  to  her,  when  her  good  genius  stayed 
her  hand ;  the  umbrella,  —  the  old  green  cotton  one,  — 
descended  gently  as  a  snow-flake,  and  the  kind  old  lady 
invested  two  coppers,  American  currency,  in  a  last 
week's  paper  which  the  urchin  chanced  to  have  on  hand. 


IRREVERENT. 

ONE  of  our  preachers,  in  his  sermon,  spoke  of  those 
who  do  business,  as  travelling  along  the  level  plain  of 
life.  Old  Roger  happened  to  be  there,  and  the  old 
fellow  reached  over  to  his  neighbor,  and  whispered,  "It 
may  be  a  plain  for  some,  but  for  myself  I  have  always 
found  it  up-hill  work."  The  neighbor  laughed  at  Roger 
with  the  back  of  his  head,  but  kept  the  part  grave  that 
tfas  lowards  the  minister. 


INDIGNATION     MEETING. 


131 


INDIGNATION  MEETING. 


HE  enforcement  of  the  laAV  re- 
quiring our  canine  friends  and 
fellow-citizens  to  wear  collars 
about  their  necks  —  a  servile 
mark,  which  no  dog  of  spirit  could  for  a  moment  consent 
to  wear  —  caused,  as  might  be  supposed,  much  growling 
among  them ;  and  many  teeth  were  shown,  and  much 
dogged  determination  was  evinced  to  resist  the  law. 
Acting  upon  this  feeling,  the  more  energetic  of  the  Canin- 
ites  went  round  among  their  brethren  counselling  them 
to  withstand  the  law,  and  telling  them,  besides,  that  the 
rights  of  universal  puppydom  were  in  their  keeping,  and 
asking  them,  in  tones  of  earnest  entreaty,  if  they  would 
see  those  rights  sacrificed  without  a  struggle. 

This  appeal  was  effectual,  and  a  meeting  was  forthwith 
assembled  at  the  old  slaughter-house,  on  South  Boston 
flats,  to  discuss  the  great  question  of  resistance.  It  was 
composed  chiefly  of  dogs  whose '  necks  had  never  chafed 


1S2  INDIGNATION    MEETING. 

with  the  ignominious  badge  of  ownership ;  of  hard-faring 
dogs,  bone-gnawing  dogs  ;  of  dogs  not  nursed  in  the  lap 
of  luxury  or  pampered  by  the  indulgence  of  favoring 
masters ;  none  of  the  silk-eared  and  soft-footed  aristoc- 
racy ;  but  there  were  the  Huge  Paws  from  Roxbury 
Neck,  the  Shagbarks  from  the  North  End,  and  the  Tough 
and  Roughers  from  West  Boston,  and  many  of  minor 
note.  Not  a  smile  marked  their  meeting,  not  a  tail 
wagged,  not  a  bark  disturbed  the  stillness,  and  anybody 
with  half  an  eye  could  see  that  each  heart  was  nerved 
with  mighty  resolution. 

The  meeting  was  organized  by  the  choice  of  CJESAK, 
the  biggest  dog  present,  for  president ;  and  PLATO,  a  lean 
dog  in  specs,  who  had  been  very  active  in  getting  up  the 
meeting,  and  who  was  known  to  be  an  excellent  reporter, 
was  appointed  scribe.  Some  said,  in  an  under  tone, 
aside,  that  the  scribe  had  nominated  himself,  but  his 
well-known  modesty  precluded  the  possibility  of  this,  and 
it  may  be  set  down  as  a  slander. 

The  chairman,  on  taking  his  seat,  stood  up,  and,  after 
wagging  his  tail  in  silence  for  some  moments,  expressive 
of  his  deep  emotion,  he  then  proceeded  to  make  a  speech 
describing  the  object  of  the  meeting,  characterized  by  all 
the  profundity,  eloquence,  brilliancy,  and  power,  that  has 
rendered  the  name  of  Caesar  immortal,  and  that  has 
more  or  less  marked  the  efforts  of  every  chairman  of  every 
meeting  since  when  the  memory  of  man  or  dog  knoweth 
not  the  contrary.  We  regret  very  much  that  we  have 
not  this  great  speech  to  print.  In  recommending  union 
in  their  action,  he  related  an  original  anecdote  about  an 


INDIGNATION    MEETING.  138 

old  man  and  his  sons  and  a  bundle  of  sticks,  which  was 
received  with  tremendous  applause. 

There  was  a  struggle  for  the  floor  as  the  chairman 
ceased,  and,  amidst  much  yelping,  it  was  assigned  to 
CATO,  an  old  setter,  who  called  upon  his  hearers  to  keep 
cool  and  not  be  in  too  much  of  a  hurry ;  they  would 
accomplish  more  by  masterly  inactivity  than  by  thrusting 
their  necks  in  the  way  of  the  danger ;  they  must  remem- 
ber the  conduct  of  an  ancient  member  of  their  race,  —  he 
must  refer  to  it,  although  it  was  humiliating  to  think  that 
a  dog  should  be  such  a  fool,  —  who  dropped  a  piece  of 
beef  he  had  in  his  mouth  for  its  shadow  in  the  water. 
Prudence,  with  both  eyes  wide  open  tight,  would  remove 
them  out  of  the  way  of  trouble ;  as  a  last  word  he  would 
advise  them  to  lay  low  and  look  out  for  bricks  —  a  species 
of  dog-bane  inimical  to  canine  constitutions. 

A  heavy  old,  dark-browed  dog  here  arose,  who  com- 
menced to  bay  violently  against  the  law  and  those  who 
were  enforcing  it.  He  was  astonished,  he  was  paralyzed, 
lie  was  dumfounded  to  hear  dogs  counsel  coolness  in  this 
crisis  !  The  policemen  are  upon  us  !  We  have  already 
felt  our  tails  within  their  degrading  fingers !  I  hold 
them  arid  their  leader  in  detestation  !  He !  I  would 
bark  at  the  woman  who  does  his  washing,  I  hate  him  so ! 
I  would  point  at  him  in  State-street,  though  not  natural- 
ly a  pointer  !  I  would  show  my  teeth  at  him  wherever 
I  met  him !  His  excitement  overpowered  him,  and  he 
sat  down. 

PONTO,  a  large,  gnarly,  hard-looking  dog,  here  arose, 
and  it  was  doubtful  for  a  time  if  he  could  be  heard,  for 
the  noise  and  confusion  which  prevailed  among  the  oppo- 
12 


184  INDIGNATION    MEETING. 

sers  of  the  law.  He  was  for  law  and  order.  Law  was  too 
sacred  a  thing  to  be  handled  without  gloves  ;  it  was  the 
palladium  of  our  liberty.  If  the  law  was  oppressive,  as  it 
doubtless  was,  he  would  suggest,  in  his  reverence  for 
law,  that  they  grin  and  bear  it ;  if  their  necks  were  a 
little  chafed,  the  evil  would  be  mitigated  by  the  reflection 
that  the  law  was  inviolate.  Individual  grievance  was 
nothing  in  comparison  with  this  grand  idea.  Everything 
that  is  legal  is  right ;  what  is  wrong  in  the  individual 
may  become  right  in  law.  Did  the  law  require  him  to 
fasten  the  collar  upon  his  own  neck  or  upon  the  necks  of 
those  with  whom  he  was  allied,  he  would  not  hesitate 
to  do  it,  in  his  regard  for  the  law;  he  would  " 

He  was  here  pulled  down  by  his  tail,  when,  amid  the 
shaggy  hair  which  thickly  covered  his  neck,  a  collar  was 
discovered,  fitting  closely  to  the  skin  !  Amid  the  confu- 
sion attending  this  discovery,  he  sneaked  away. 

A  sandy-haired  dog,  named  CARLO,  next  took  the 
floor,  and  snarled  ominously  as  he  commenced.  He  had 
but  few  words  to  say.  He  would  ask  them  if  they  were 
going  to  allow  this  law  to  be  enforced  ?  For  his  part  he 
would  fill  his  pockets  with  pistols,  and  with  a  twenty- 
four-pounder  under  each  arm  Avould  he  go  alone  to 
oppose  it ! 

His  remarks  produced  an  immense  sensation  among 
the  younger  portion  of  the  audience.  A  cry  was  here 
made  for  "  BONES."  A  venerable  dog  arose,  whose  appear- 
ance excited  respect.  He  gained  his  feet  with  much 
difficulty,  and  it  was  perceived  that  he  had  a  wooden  leg, 
and  bore  about  his  person  sundry  other  marks  of  dilapi- 
dation. 


INDIGNATION    MEETING.  135 

"  My  brethren,"  said  he,  when  the  cheering  -which 
had  greeted  him  had  subsided,  "  you  have  before  you  but 
a  sorry  dog ;  but  such  as  I  am  is  all  that  was  left  over 
from  that  fatal  nineteenth  of  April,  when  so  many  of  our 
race  were  served  up  cold.  I  was  then  young  and  ardent. 
At  the  first  howl  of  danger,  I  left  the  bone  I  was  gnaw- 
ing, and  threw  myself  into  the  front  rank  of  the  defend- 
ers of  my  race.  Alas  !  my  friends ;  I  soon  found  that  I 
was  barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  and  discovered,  too,  that 
canine  sagacity,  however  good  it  might  be  in  saving 
children  from  drowning,  or  worrying  cats,  could  never 
cope  with  humanity  armed  with  clubs  and  actuated  by 
the  love  of  money.  In  a  bloody  fray  my  leg  was  broken 
with  an  ignominious  brick;  in  another  my  termination 
was  curtailed  ;  in  another  my  right  eye  closed  in  dark- 
ness on  the  world  forever.  With  this  view  of  the  power 
of  man,  and  of  our  own  weakness,  I  would  counsel 
caution  —  submission,  even  —  for  the  present,  resting  in 
the  assurance  of  the  fulfilment  of  the  ancient  prophecy 
of  the  good  time  coming,  when  '  every  dog  shall  have 
his  day ! '  when,  basking  in  the  broad  sunshine  of 
beneficent  law,  we  may  catch  flies  in  peaceful  security, 
fearing  not  the  butcher's  art,  fearing  not  the  urchins' 
mischief,  who,  so  reckless  of  our  feelings,  persist  in 
ornamenting  our  extremities  with  cast-off  culinary  uten- 
sils." 

This  speech  produced  a  great  sensation,  awakening  the 
president,  who  had  fallen  asleep  during  the  pathetic  part 
of  it ;  and  a  few  sensitive  pups  near  the  door  were  so 
deeply  affected  that  they  had  to  go  out  and  take  a  little 
whine  to  restore  their  strength.  The  scribe,  who  had 


136  HOW   TO    GET   OUT   OP   AN    OMNIBUS. 

prepared  a  series  of  resolutions  before  he  came,  concluded 
not  to  submit  them,  and  let  them  drop  back  in  his  pocket, 
to  read  some  other  time  to  private  admirers ;  and  the 
meeting  dissolved. 


HOW   TO   GET   OUT   OP   AN   OMNIBUS. 

GIVE  the  string  a  sudden  jerk  at  the  same  instant 
you  start  from  your  seat  to  make  for  the  door.  The 
motion  of  the  coach  will  afford  you  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity of  testing  your  powers  of  navigation,  and  will  not 
in  the  least  annoy  you,  although  it  may  be  annoying  to 
those  whose  corns  you  tread  on.  If  you  are  timid  of 
falling  into  the  laps  of  your  fellow-passengers,  incline 
your  body  forward,  as  if  about  commencing  to  swim, 
and  place  your  hands  upon  projecting  knees  on  each  side, 
until  you  are  at  a  right  distance  from  the  door,  and  then 
make  a  sudden  and  energetic  plunge  at  it,  as  if  attempt- 
ing to  carry  it  by  storm.  We  have  seen  a  lady  attempt 
this  mode  of  egress,  and  by  skilful  management  contrive  to 
sit  on  seven  masculine  laps  before  she  reached  the  door 
It  saves  time  to  start  a  trifle  before  pulling  the  string ; 
you  might  lose  a  full  sixteenth  of  a  minute  by  waiting 
for  the  coach  to  stop,  and  that  is  something  where 
"  time  is  money"  and  money  is  two  per  cent,  a  month  ! 


A   LITERAL    CONSTRUCTION.  137 


A   LITERAL   CONSTRUCTION. 

"PREACHERS,"  said  a  reverend  gentleman,  "should 
be  careful,  in  doing  their  Master's  service,  never  to  exceed 
their  commission,  or  take  anything  but  the  Bible  into 
their  mouths." 

"Bless  me!"  thought  Mrs.  Partington,  as  he  said 
this  ;  "I  don't  see  how  he  could  find  room  for  anything 
more  very  well ;  though  some  mouths  are  a  great  deal 
larger  than  others.  I  remember  my  poor  Paul  and  his 
brother  were  digging  a  cellar  once,  when  Paul  threw 
some  dirt  in  his  brother's  mouth.  '  Paul,'  says  he, 
'  you  've  filled  my  mouth  half  full  of  dirt.'  His  brother 
had  a  very  big  mouth.  '  Have  I  ?  '  said  Paul ;  '  well, 
just  spit  it  outside,  and  we  shan't  have  any  more  to 
dig.'  Ah,  Paul  was  such  a  queer  man  !  He  was  the 
beatermost  creatur." 

What  a  joyous  gleam  shot  from  her  specs  as  this  rem- 
iniscence crossed  her  mind,  giving  the  very  iron  of  the 
bows  the  semblance  of  gold  in  its  light !     But  the  reflec- 
tion cost  her  the  whole  of  the  fourthly. 
12* 


138         A    LEGITIMATE    CONCLUSION. EPIGRAM. 


A.  LEGITIMATE   CONCLUSION. 

OLD  Mr.  Brown  and  his  son  George  were  engaged  in 
the  haymow,  when  the  conversation  turned  upon  Cali- 
fornia, and  the  young  man  expressed  a  strong  desire  to 
go.  The  old  man  said  he  shouldn't  go.  They  talked 
about  it,  reasoned  about  it,  grew  mad  about  it,  and  the 
end  of  it  all  was,  that  George  shoved  his  venerable 
progenitor  down  over  the  mow,  through  a  hole  in  the 
barn  floor,  into  an  apple  binn,  to  the  imminent  risk  of 
the  venerable  gentleman's  neck,  and  then  ran  away, 
leaving  his  father  in  the  binn  among  the  apples.  The 
old  man,  some  months  afterwards,  told  the  minister  the 
story,  and  the  reverend  very  profoundly  said  that  he 
thought  children  who  showed  such  disrespect  to  their 
parents  never  came  to  a  good  end.  "No,  sir !  "  said  old 
Mr.  Brown,  firmly,  striking  his  hoe  with  energy  into  the 
turf,  —  "no,  sir  I  depend  upon  it,  that  boys  who  throw 
their  fathers  down  into  apple  binns  don't  go  to  Heaven 
by  a  great  sight." 


AN  EPIGRAM.  —  Upon  the  election  of  General  Pierce 
the  usual  changes  were  made  in  the  various  subordinate 
offices,  with  the  usual  anxiety  among  the  outs  and  ins, 
expressed  by  the  following  :  — 

"  The  office-holders  are  all  in  a  sweat," 
Said  an  office-hoper,  with  exultation  ; 

"  True,"  said  old  Roger,  "  I  never  yet 
Saw  such  a  General  Piercepiration." 


QUESTION    ANSWERED.  —  TEST   REFUSED.          ]  39 


QUESTION   ANSWERED. 

"WHERE  is  the  fire?"  asked  Mrs.  Partington  of  a 
fireman,  from  an  upper  window,  as  the  bells  were  waking 
the  night  with  their  clangor. 

"  In ,"  was  the  ungallant  response,  naming  the 

hottest  title  of  perpetual  warmth.  "  Dear  me  !  "  said 
the  old  lady,  not  comprehending  him;  "is  it  so  far  off? 
I  wish  it  was  nearer  for  your  sake!  But  he'll  get 
there  soon,"  she  muttered  to  herself,  "  if  he  goes  on  as 
he  does  now ;"  and  she  went  to  sleep  again,  invoking 
blessings  on  the  guardians  of  public  safety. 


THE   TEST   REFUSED. 

MR.  JABEZ  BRATTLE,  the  elocutionist,  was  introduced 

one  day  to  Prof.  ,  and   expressed   himself  much 

pleased  at  making  that  gentleman's  acquaintance.  Mr. 
Brattle  stated  to  the  professor  that  he  was  an  ardent 
admirer  of  his  works,  and  that  he  could  repeat  "  Evan- 
geline"  and  the  "  Golden  Legend  "  from  beginning  to 
end.  He  commenced  the  former,  and  had  not  got  more 
than  half  through  before  the  professor  was  seen  dashing 
wildly  up  School  street ;  and,  in  fifteen  minutes  by  the 
Old  South,  he  stood  upon  Cambridge  Bridge,  thankful 
at  his  escape  from  a  bore. 


140  A    WHOLESOME    LESSON. 


A  WHOLESOME  LESSON. 

"A  DOG  is  a  very  singular  animal,"  said  the  owner 
of  Fido  to  old  Roger,  after  they  had  marked  the  affec- 
tionate gambols  of  the  faithful  creature,  who  now,  in 
weariness,  had  come  to  lie  at  his  master's  feet ;  "a  very 
singular  animal.  Now  you  see  I  will  flog  him  severely 
(suiting  the  action  to  the  word)  ;  and  now  you  see  him 
licking  my  hand  in  return." 

Old  Roger  was  moved. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man  severely,  "and  were  I  the 
dog  I  would  give  you  a  different  sort  of  licking  from  that. 
He  is  the  noblest  animal  of  the  two,  and  ought  to  change 
places  with  you.  Let  me  tell  you,  sir,  that  a  man  who 
by  a  mere  accident  occupies  the  superior  position,  and 
out  of  pure  wantonness  abuses  the  power  he  may  possess, 
or  presumes  upon  that  power  to  hurt  the  helpless,  is  a 
scoundrel,  sir!  That  dog,  there,  is  a  king  to  him." 

And  the  old  man  turned  away,  leaving  Fido  and  his 
master  to  experience  perhaps  the  benefit  of  the  lesson. 
There  is  a  moral  in  it. 


A   BOOTLESS   CASE.  —  PERHAPS  TRUE.  141 


A  BOOTLESS   CASE. 

"  I  WISH  I  could  find  something  to  help  my  corns," 
said  Mr.  Verd,  despondingly  ;  "  they  ache  so  !  " 

"I'll  tell  you  what '11  cure  'em."  said  one  of  the 
boarders.  "  Wear  large  boots,  —  'bout  two  sizes  larger  'n 
you  now  wear,  —  and  your  corns  '11  be  better." 

Mr.  Verd  wore  No.  12s,  already,  and,  as  he  cast  his 
eyes  towards  his  feet,  upon  hearing  this  advice,  he  sighed 
piteously,  for  the  remedy  seemed  bootless. 

"  Young  man,"  said  old  Roger,  wiping  his  mouth  on 
his  napkin,  "  I  pity  your  case,  if  you  depend  upon  that ; 
for,  to  carry  out  the  plan  recommended,  the  streets  would 
surely  have  to  be  widened,  and  land  is  very  dear  in 
Boston." 

It  was  touching  the  young  man  upon  a  sore  spot,  and 
he  left  off  complaining  from  then. 


PERHAPS   TRUE. 

A  PAPER  begins  a  paragraph  eulogistic  —  "  Price,  the 
immortal  friend  of  mothers,"  &c.  We  are  assured,  by  a 
friend  at  our  elbow  that  knows,  that  price  is  no  object 
with  some  mothers ;  and  that  however  much  it  may  be 
pretended  that  Price  is  the  mother's  friend,  it  is  a  notori- 
ous fact  that  price  is  obnoxious  to  fathers. 


142 


OLD  ROGER'S  NEW  HAT. 


OLD   ROGER'S   NEW   HAT. 

IOR  heaven's  sake,  old  wo- 
man, get  off  my  hat !  "  said 
Roger  at  the  concert,  as  he 
saw  a  two  hundred  and  fifty 
pounder  settle  on  his  new 
ventilated  castor.  Old  wo- 
man I  It  was  an  ungallant 
expression,  but  the  circum- 
stance would  seem  to  justify 
it.  A  new  hat  was  a  new 
era,  in  his  existence,  and  this 
was  one  of  the  latest.  Re- 
covering himself,  and  pressing  over  his  knee  as  best  he 
might  his  crushed  tile,  the  wrinkles  but  too  apparent,  he 
calmly  continued,  "  I  wouldn't  object  to  your  trying  it 
on,  ma'am,  were  there  the  least  chance  of  its  fitting ;  but 
it  is  evident  that  it  is  n't  large  enough.  /  never  saw  a 
hat  worn  in  that  way  before,  and  /  don't  want  to  furnish 
one  to  experiment  upon,  either." 

The  hat  was  put  on,  but  how  like  an  apothecary's 
'prentice  long  indented  it  looked,  contrasted  with  its  pre- 
vious fair  proportions  !  The  opera  is  very  destructive  to 
hats,  especially  where  they  throw  them  at  the  singers. 


CHEISTMAS  REFLECTION.  143 


CHRISTMAS   REFLECTION. 

"  I  wish  you  a  merry  Christma* 

And  a  happy  New  Ynar, 
With  your  stomach  full  of  money, 
And  your  pocket  full  of  beer," 

yelled  Ike,  as  he  skipped  into  Mrs.  Partington's  kitchen, 
where  the  old  dame  was  busily  engaged  in  cooking  break- 
fast on  Christmas  morning. 

"  Don't  make  such  a  noise,  dear,"  said  the  kind  old 
lady,  holding  up  her  hand;  "you give  me  a  scrutinizing 
pain  in  my  head,  and  your  young  voice  goes  through  my 
brains  like  a  scalpel  knife.  But  what  did  the  good  Santa 
Cruz  put  in  your  stocking,  Isaac  ?  " 

And  she  looked  at  him  with  an  arch  and  pleased  expres- 
jion,  as  he  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  jacknife,  and  a  hum- 
top  painted  with  gaudy  colors.  Ike  held  them  up  joyously, 
»nd  it  was  a  sight  to  see  the  two  standing  there,  she 
omiling  serenely  upon  the  boy's  happiness,  and  he  grate- 
ful in  the  possession  of  his  treasures. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  she,  with  a  sigh,  "  there  's  many  a  home 
to-day,  Isaac,  that  Santa  Cruz  won't  visit,  and  many  a 
poor  child  will  find  nothing  in  his  stocking  but  his  own 
little  foot!  " 

It  might  have  been  a  grain  of  the  snuff  she  took,  it 
might  have  been  a  floating  mote  of  the  atmosphere,  but 
Mrs.  Partington's  eyes  looked  humid,  though  she  smiled 
upon  the  boy  before  her,  who  stood  trying  to  pull  the 
cord  out  of  her  reticule  to  spin  his  new  top  with. 


144  REFLECTION   ABOUT   MOSQUITOS. 


REFLECTION  ABOUT  MOSQUITOS. 

"THERE  !  now  I  hope  you've  got  it,  you  everlastin' 
torment !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  angrily  giving  Mar- 
garet, her  young  neighbor,  who  was  in  spending  the 
evening  with  her,  a  smart  slap  on  her  forehead,  and 
nearly  throwing  her  from  her  chair ;  at  the  same  time 
knocking  the  Britannia  lamp  from  the  table  by  her 
violent  motion. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  inquired  Margaret,  alarmed; 
for  such  conduct  was  very  unusual,  and  the  oil  from  the 
lamp  had  marred  her  new  calico. 

"It's  only  a  pesky  musketeer,  dear,"  said  the  old 
lady,  relighting  the  lamp ;  "  it 's  only  a  musketeer,  and 
I  can't  see  the  use  of  'em,  the  tormenting  creaturs  ! 
They  say  the  Lord  makes  everything  for  some  good 
purpose ;  and  so  I  think  that  these  sort  of  annoysome 
reptiles  must  be  made  by  somebody  else,  I  do." 

The  remark  may  be  thought  irreverent  by  some,  but 
the  old  lady  was  excited,  and  the  heat  of  these  warm, 
mosquito-teeming  evenings  ought  to  excuse  more,  even, 
under  such  annoyance  as  she  was  suffering. 


A   PASSABLE   JOKE.  145 


A  PASSABLE  JOKE. 

OLD  ROGER  was  at  the  concert  one  evening,  and  as  he 
sat  awaiting  the  commencement  of  the  performances  in  a 
slip  where  there  was  room  for  one  more,  a  gentleman 
came  along,  and  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  told  him  in 
a  whisper  that  he  should  like  to  pass  inside  of  him. 
Old  Roger  looked  at  the  stranger  a  moment ;  he  was  a 
large  man,  very  large. 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,"  said  the  old  fellow,  "  I  don't 
think  you  can,  for  I  have  just  eaten  a  hearty  supper,  and 
from  appearances  I  should  judge  that  you  would  n't  sit 
well  on  my  stomach." 

This  was  said  loud  enough  for  people  in  the  adjacent 
seats  to  hear,  and  in  an  instant  eleven  double  spy-glasses 
Avere  levelled  at  him.  The  gentleman  looked  very  red 
at  first. 

"  I  mean,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  vacant  seat,  "  will 
you  allow  me  to  pass  by  you  to  that  seat  1 " 

"  Certainly. sir,"  said  Old  Roger  gravely,  "and  I  am 
rejoiced  to  find  that  your  request  is  so  much  more  pass- 
able than  I  first  regarded  it." 

The  stranger  immediately  tendered  Old  Roger  his  hat, 
which  he  magnanimously  declined  receiving. 

13 


146  A    I'UBCIXE    EXPOSURE. 


A  PORCINE  EXPOSURE. 

"COULDN'T  you  get  young  pork,  ma'am,  to  bake 
with  your  beans?  "  said  old  Roger,  somewhat  cynically, 
as  he  sat  at  table  one  Sunday. 

"  They  told  me  it  was  young  !  "  said  the  landlady. 

"  Well,  it  may  be  so,  but  gray  hair  is  not  a  juvenile 
feature,  by  any  means,  in  our  latitude,  ma'am,"  contin- 
ued he,  fishing  up  a  gray  hair,  about  a  foot  and  a  half 
long,  with  his  fork.  "He  may  have  been  young,  but 
he  must  have  lived  a  very  wicked  life  to  be  gray  so 
soon." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  along  the  table,  and  a  slight 
emotion  was  visible  among  the  boarders ;  and  the  man 
who  sat  opposite,  with  his  mouth  full  of  the  edibles  with 
which  he  had  been  endeavoring  to  smother  a  laugh,  grew 
dark  with  the  effort,  and  then  collapsed,  scattering  dis- 
may and  crumbs  amid  the  nicely-plaited  folds  of  old 
Roger's  shirt-frills. 


SPUNK.  — "  1  wouldn't  be  so  bothered  about  my 
aaeals,"  said  a  jour  printer  to  a  brother  typo,  who  had 
to  wait  pretty  often  for  dinner  that  did  n't  pay  for  wait- 
ing ;  "  if  I  boarded  out  I  'd  have  my  dinner just  as 

soon  as  I  could  get  it." 


A   NAVE   IN   THE   CHURCH.  147 


A  NAVE   IN   THE   CHURCH. 

"  A  NAVE  in  our  church! "  screamed  Mrs.  Partington, 
as  her  eye  rested  on  a  description  of  the  new  edifice,  and 
the  offensive  word  struck  terror  to  her  soul ;  "a  nave  in 
our  church  !  who  can  it  be  ?  Dear  me,  and  they  have 
been  so  careful,  too,  who  they  took  in,  — exercising  'em 
aforehand,  and  putting  'em  through  the  catechis  and  the 
lethargy,  and  pounding  'em  into  a  state  of  grace  !  Who 
can  it  be  1 "  And  the  spectacles  expressed  anxiety.  "  I 
believe  it  must  be  slander,  arter  all.  0,  what  a  terrible 
thing  it  is  to  pizen  the  peace  of  a  neighborhood  detero- 
tating  and  backbiting,  and  lying  about  people,  when  the 
blessed  truth  is  full  bad  enough  about  the  best  of 
us  !  " 

What  a  lesson  is  here  for  the  mischief-maker  to  ponder 
upon  !  Truth  lent  dignity  to  her  words,  and  gave  a 
beam  to  her  countenance,  reminding  one  somewhat  of  a 
sunset  in  the  fall  on  a  used-up  landscape. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON,  one  Fourth  of  July,  was  much 
incommoded  by  the  crowd  that  rushed  to  see  the  proces- 
sion. She  said  she  "did  n't  see  the  least  need  of  scrowg- 
ing  so,  for  she  dared  say  the  procession  was  full  long 
enough  to  go  round.' 


148  A    QUEER  ASSOCIATION. 


A  QUEER  ASSOCIATION. 

IT  was  with  a  strong  emotion  of  wonder  that  Mrs. 
Partington  read  in  the  papers  that  a  new  wing  was  to  be 
added  to  the  Cambridge  Observatory. 

"  What  upon  airth  can  that  be  for,  I  wonder  ?  I  dare 
say  they  are  putting  the  new  wing  on  to  take  more 
flights  arter  comics  and  such  things,  or  to  look  at  the 
new  ring  of  the  planet  Satan,  —  another  link  added  to 
bis  chain,  perhaps ;  and,  gracious  knows,  he  seems  to  go 
further  than  he  ever  did  before." 

She  stopped  to  listen,  as  the  sounds  of  revelry  and 
drunkenness  arose  upon  the  night  air,  and  she  glanced 
from  her  chamber  over  the  way,  where  a  red  illuminated 
lantern  denoted  "  Clam  Chowder."  Why  should  she 
look  there  just  at  that  moment  of  her  allusion  to  Satan  ? 
What  connection  could  there  be  in  her  mind  between 
Satan  and  clam  chowder  1  Nobody  was  near  but  Ike, 
and  Isaac  slumbered. 


THE    PUNDIT   PUNNED.  149 


THE   PUNDIT  PUNNED. 

DR.  DIGG  and  old  Roger  were  holding  an  animated 
conversation  upon  the  subject  of  California,  the  Doctor 
contending  that  the  chances  were  against  the  emigrants 
thither  getting  recompensed  for  their  trouble;  "for," 
said  the  Doctor,  "  the  ground  is  all  occupied,  and  those 
coming  last  have  small  chance  of  procuring  a  lucrative 
field  for  their  operations." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  old  Roger,  with  animation,  "I 
can  assure  you  it  is  not  so ;  for  I  am  informed  by  an 
intelligent  returned  Californian  that  every  man  who 
goes  to  the  mines  has  his  pick" 

The  Doctor,  however,  still  contended  for  his  point,  and 
could  not  see  how  it  could  be  possible,  and  thought  old 
Roger's  friend  must  be  mistaken. 

13* 


[50  PUNCH    IN   THE    HEAD. 


PUNCH    IN    THE    HEAD. 

OLD  Sherry  came  home  one  night  when  it  was  so  near 
morning  that  the  line  dividing  the  night  from  the  morn- 
ing was  legitimately  debatable,  and  having  taken  an  extra 
glass  or  two  previous  to  leaving  the  company  he  had  been 
with,  he  was  somewhat  dull  of  apprehension,  and  the 
houses  seemed  walking  around  him  unaccountably,  and 
the  streets,  by  some  sort  of  undulatory  motion  that  he 
had  never  before  noticed,  seemed  determined  to  throw 
him  down ;  but  he  got  home  safely. 

So  far,  well ;  but  he  had  lost  his  night-key,  or  it  was 
in  the  pocket  of  his  other  pants,  in  the  wardrobe,  within 
ten  feet  of  the  spot  where  Mrs.  Sherry  was  probably  at 
that  time  reposing ;  whose  snore  he  even  fancied  he  heard 
jarring  the  latch  of  the  outside  door.  It  must  be  one  or 
the  other,  for  he  felt  in  his  pockets  for  it  in  vain.  He 
did  n't  like  to  alarm  the  house,  nor  the  people  in  it,  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century's  experience  of  the  quality  of  Mrs. 
Sherry's  temper  led  him  to  know  that  her  welcome  to 
him,  in  his  present  plight,  would  be  more  warm  than 
agreeable,  even  if  she  consented  to  let  him  in  at  all. 

It  at  last  occurred  to  him  that  a  window  in  the  rear  of 
the  house  could  be  opened  from  the  outside,  and  he  at 
once  resolved  to  gain  an  entrance  in  this  manner,  then 
creep  up  stairs  to  bed,  and  say  nothing  to  anybody. 
Accordingly,  with  this  burglarious  idea  in  his  mind,  he 
went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house.  The  window  was 
a  lif'le  above  his  reach,  but  he  *bund  a  barrel  somewhere, 


PUNCH       IN      T  II   K      II   R  A   I) 


PUNCH   IN   THE   HEAD.  151 

and  by  skilful  manoeuvring  got  it  beneath  the  window 
and  elevated  himself  upon  it.  He  tried  to  lift  the  sash, 
and  it  slid  up  easily  to  the  desired  height,  where  he 
secured  it  with  a  stick.  Mr.  Sherry  congratulated  him- 
self upon  this  triumphant  achievement  under  difficulty. 
The  outposts  were  won  —  another  step,  and  he  would  be 
master  of  the  citadel.  Already  was  his  foot  raised  to 
take  this  last  step  ;  his  head  and  shoulders  were  within 
the  window,  when  the  treacherous  barrel,  losing  its  equi- 
poise in  the  exertion  Mr.  Sherry  was  making,  fell  over ; 
his  luckless  elbow  touching  the  stick  that  sustained  the 
window,  it  fell  with  a  crash  upon  Mr.  Sherry's  broad 
shoulders,  and  he  found  himself  in  a  trap  from  which  he 
could  not  escape. 

Mr.  Sherry's  maiden  sister,  a  romantic  damsel  of 
thirty-five,  had  heard  the  noise,  and  as  she  awaked  from 
her  slumber  the  idea  of  thieves  flashed  across  her  mind. 
She  had  been  dreaming  of  brigands  and  robbers,  and 
the  noise  occurred  just  where  a  heroine  was  forcibly  car- 
ried from  her  paternal  horn*  by  ruffians  in  masks  !  Upon 
the  spur  of  the  moment  she  darted  into  her  nephew's 
chamber,  contiguous  to  hers,  and  told  him,  in  a  big  whis- 
per, that  robbers  were  breaking  into  the  house,  and 
added  the  gratuitous  and  sanguinary  information  that 
they  would  all  be  murdered  in  their  beds  ! 

While  she  went  to  impart  this  gratifying  news  to  the 
rest  of  the  household,  the  young  man  arose,  and,  without 
stopping  to  dress  himself,  seized  a  big  stick  and  went 
stealthily  down  stairs.  He  opened  the  door  softly  of  the 
room  from  which  the  noise  proceeded,  and,  beholding  the 
supposed  burglar  in  the  window,  the  young  Sherry  gave 


152  PUNCH   IN   THE   HEAD. 

his  parent's  head  a  couple  of  whacks  with  the  stick,  when 
a  cry  from  that  suffering  specimen  of  suspended  anima- 
tion revealed  to  the  young  man  who  the  victim  was,  and, 
with  the  assistance  of  the  rest  of  the  family,  who  had 
now  assembled,  the  two  hundred  pounds  of  old  Sherry 
were  soon  housed. 

Such  a  lecture  as  he  received  !  Either  the  lecture,  or 
the  debauch,  or  the  cane,  perhaps  the  whole  combined, 
gave  him  a  severe  headache  the  next  morning,  and  he 
was  constrained  to  keep  his  bed.  He  summoned  his  son 
to  his  bedside,  and  with  an  expression  of  grave  authority 
he  asked  the  young  man  if  he  did  n't  think  he  was  a 
graceless  rogue  to  be  punchin'  his  parent's  head  in  the 
way  he  did  —  if  he  was  n't  really  ashamed  of  himself ! 
The  young  Sherry  made  up  a  mouth,  in  which  much  ftm 
blended  with  considerable  that  was  serious,  and  replied 
that  his  respected  sire  would  never  have  got  any  punch 
in  his  head  from  him,  had  it  not  been  for  the  punch  he 
had  got  in  his  head  before  he  came^home.  The  old 
Sherry  admitted  the  corn,  turned  over  and  slept  on  it. 


MATTEK    OF   FACT    AND    SENTIMENT.  153 


MATTER  OF  FACT  AND  SENTIMENT. 

SAID  Augustus,  as  he  gazed  from  Mrs.  Partington's 
little  window,  his  finger  pensively  resting  upon  a  cracked 
china  teapot  upon  the  sill,  —  "Here  is  a  spot  in  which 
to  cultivate  the  flowers  of  poesy ;  here  the  imagination 
may  soar  on  unrestricted  wing;  here  balmy  zephyrs 
rising  from  embowering  roses  waft  ambrosial  sweets  " — 

"  Them  is  beans  planted  in  the  window,"  said  the  old 
lady,  interrupting  him.  "What  you  say  is  very  true ; 
there  's  nothing  better  for  a  sore  than  balmy-gilead  buds 
in  rum ;  and  it 's  so  handy  to  have  'em  in  a  temperance 
neighborhood,  too,  where  people  are  too  good  to  keep 
rum  in  the  house  themselves,  but  leave  it  all  to  be 
borryed  of  the  neighbors.  How  glad  I  am  always  to 
have  it  for  'em  !  They  are  so  kind,  too,  always  advising 
me  to  give  up  keeping  it  in  the  house ;  but,  dear  me, 
what  would  the  poor  creturs  do  if  I  should  1  I  may  be 
committing  sin  in  keeping  it ;  but  a  bad  use  of  a  thing 
makes  all  the  trouble  after  all." 

Augustus  was  moved  ;  but  there  was  so  much  of  the 
"  earth  earthy  "  in  her  remark  that  he  was  silent. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  he  meant  about  embowel- 
ling  roses,"  murmured  she  to  herself;  "  peppermint 
would  be  better  if  he  has  the  colic." 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly,  but  there  seemed  no 
token  of  pain,  and  she  forbore  to  speak. 


154 


COMMISERATION    FOR    CLERKS. 


COMMISERATION   FOR  CLERKS. 

jiiOPKEEPERS  is  not  enough 
thought    of,"    said   Mrs. 
Partington,  after  having 
been    out   making   some 
purchases.     "  How   they 
do  toil  and  how  they  suf- 
fer !     One     dear    pretty 
young  man,  with  a  nice  black  coat 
on  and  a  gold  chain  and  a  starched 
collar,  with  a  carrivan  on  his  neck, 
|  told  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes  that 
Ip'  he  was  selling  to  me  at  less  than  he 
gave  for  it ;  and  I  bought  it  out  of 
pity,  though  I  knowed  I  could  get  it  five  cents  a  yard 
cheaper  next  door.     Talk  about  Moses  being  executed  on 
one  string,  indeed  !     These  poor  creturs  are  Rogerses, 
every  one  of  'em,  by  the  yard-stick,  and  are  all  the  time 
a  dying." 

There  's  a  constant  flow  of  the  milk  of  compassion  in 
her  breast-inexhaustible  ;  like  the  purse  of  the  gentle- 
man in  the  story,  the  more  that  is  taken  from  it  the 
more  remains.  The  allusion  to  Moses  was  drawn  from 
an  advertisement  of  a  prodigy  violinist,  who  was  to  play 
a  violin  solo,  from  the  oratorio  of  "  Moses,"  upon  one 
string. 


THE   BOUQUET. 


THE   BOUQUET. 

"  LOOK  here  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Partington,  in  a  tone 
of  triumph,  as  she  returned  from  answering  the  door- 
bell, bearing  in  her  withered  hand  a  bouquet  of  generous 
proportions  and  exquisite  beauty,  with  her  name  written 
in  fair  characters  upon  an  accompanying  card.  "  Look 
here,  at  the  bucket  of  flowers  somebody  has  sent  me. 
How  charmingly  it  smells,  as  well  as  looks  !  And  the 
colors  is  all  blinded  together,  too,  so  prettily  !  " 

At  this  stage  of  her  admiration,  a  small  billet  dropped 
upon  the  floor. 

"And  here,"  she  continued,  "is  a  letter  besides, 
written  in  a  beautiful  hand,  from  somebody  with  orna- 
mental corners."  "  From  your  valentine,  TIMOTHY 
TOBY,"  closed  the  missive. 

She  said  not  another  word,  took  one  more  inspiration 
from  the  "  bucket,"  and  busied  herself  in  preparing  the 
large-mouthed  honey-bottle  for  its  accommodation.  It 
might  have  been  from  the  projecting  lily  spear,  it  might 
have  been  from  a  grain  of  subtle  maccaboy  coming  in 
contact  with  her  eye,  and  it  might  have  been  from  some 
deeper  cause,  but  a  tear  escaped  the  area  of  the  right 
eye  of  her  specs,  and  stood  for  an  instant  in  pellucid 
lustre  on  her  cheek-bone,  before  passing  away  through 
the  channels  time  had  worn  in  her  face. 


156  MRS.  PARTINGTON   ON   VENTILATION. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  ON  VENTILATION, 

"  WE  have  got  a  new  venerator  on  our  meeting- 
house," said  Mrs.  Partington;  "but  how  on  airth  they 
can  contrive  to  climb  up  there  to  let  the  execrations  go 
out  is  more  than  I  can  see  into.  But  it  is  sich  a  nice 
intervention  for  keeping  a  house  warm !  " 

"What  sort  of  a  ventilator  is  it?  "  asked  we,  anxious 
to  get  an  inkling  of  the  old  lady's  philosophy. 

"It  is  one  of  the  Emissary's,"  replied  she,  sagely, 
"and  it  is  ever  so  much  better  than  Professor  Epsom's, 
because  a  room  is  kept  so  warm  and  comfortable  by  it,  — 
not  the  least  danger  of  taking  cold  from  draughts  of 
too  fresh  air.  It  will  be  a  great  accusation  in  cold 
weather." 

"  But  how  will  it  do  in  summer  ?  "  we  again  asked. 
The  dame,  for  a  moment,  was  puzzled.  She  had  not 
thought  of  this  contingency. 

"  0  !  "  cried  she,  after  a  few  moments'  reflection,  aided 
by  the  merest  trifle  of  maccaboy,  at  the  same  time  prof- 
fering us  the  box ;  "I  suppose,  then,  they  will  stop  it 
up  altogether,  and  open  the  windows." 

It  was  an  idea  worthy  of  the  profound  black  bonnet 
and  far-seeing  specs  before  us.  She  left  us  then.  We 
watched  her  from  the  window,  and  felt  anxious  about 
her  rheumatism,  as  we  saw  her  right  foot  sink  in 
a  puddle,  in  an  attempt  to  reach  a  Canton  street 
omnibus. 


OUR   RELATIONS  WITH   MEXICO.  157 

Any  one  who  breathes  the  suffocating  air  of  our  con- 
cert rooms,  will  be  reminded  of  Mrs.  Partington's  "ven- 
erator" for  keeping  a  room  warm. 


OUR  RELATIONS  WITH  MEXICO. 

"  OUR  relations  with  Mexico  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
contemplatively,  and  her  glance  turned  upward  to  the 
wall,  where  the  portrait  of  the  deceased  corporal,  in 
rigid  pasteboard,  looked  straight  forward,  as  if  indicating 
a  bee-line  of  duty  that  she  should  follow,  —  a  sort  of 
pictorial  cynosure,  to  which  she  always  looked  for  guid- 
ance. "  Our  relations  with  Mexico  !  "  said  she  ;  "some 
of  the  poor  creaturs,  maybe,  left  there  in  the  late  hospi- 
talities, too  poor  to  get  back.  If  I  was  President  Pierce, 
now,  I  'd  send  right  away  and  bring  'em  all  home  by 
express.  The  Mexicans  had  better  not  trouble  any  of 
our  relations,  I  can  tell  'em  !  " 

Of  course  she  could  tell  'em.  There  was  no  doubt  of 
it.  Mrs.  Sled  believed  she  could,  and  Ike,  who  was 
busy  in  transforming  the  old  lady's  new  clothes-stick 
into  a  bat,  did  n't  say  a  word.  If  there  is  a  weakness  in 
Mrs.  P.'s  character,  —  and  as  a  chronicler  we  should  be 
false  to  our  trust  to  say  that  there  was  not,  —  that 
weakness  is  love  for  her  relations  ;  continually  manifest- 
ing itself  in  blue  yarn  stockings  and  souchong  tea. 
14 


158  THE   FIRST    OF  APRIL 


THE   FIRST   OF   APRIL. 

"  I  NEVER  see  the  like  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
she  slammed  to  the  front  door,  with  a  noise  and  jar  that 
set  everything  to  dancing  in  the  house,  and  the  timid 
crockery  stood  with  chattering  teeth  upon  the  little 
"buffet"  in  the  corner.  It  was  wrong  in  her  to  say  she 
had  never  seen  the  like,  for  this  was  the  fifth  time  that 
she  had  been  called  to  the  door  by  a  violent  ringing, 
within  half  an  hour,  and  had  found  no  one  there. 
Hence  anger  —  so  rarely  an  occupant  of  her  mind,  but 
so  justifiable  now  —  prompted  the  slamming  of  the  door 
and  the  remark,  "  I  never  see  the  like !  " 

It  was  the  first  of  April,  and  the  occurrence  was  the 
more  annoying  for  this  reason.  She  stood  still  by  the 
door  and  watched  stealthily  for  the  intruder ;  tapped  her 
box  easily  and  regaled  her  olfactories  with  a  dusty  obla- 
tion, and  held  still.  The  peal  of  the  bell  again  startled 
her  by  its  vehemence.  She  opened  the  door  and  looked 
out,  but  no  one  was  to  be  seen.  As  she  turned  away, 
a  string  attached  to  the  bell-wire,  extending  from  the 
banister,  met  her  gaze,  and,  sitting  quietly  upon  the 
stairs,  with  a  grin  on  his  face  that  had  a  world  of  mean- 
ing in  it  and  a  world  of  fun  in  it,  sat  Ike  !  How  the 
spectacles  sparkled  in  the  rays  of  her  indignation  !  She 
went  for  the  rod,  which  had  long  rested  on  the  shelf, 
but  it  had  been  manufactured  three  days  before  into  an 


AN    INQUIRY    ANSWERED.  159 

arrow  by  Ike,  and,  as  the  cliance  of  finding  it  diminished, 
her  anger  cooled  like  hot  iron  in  the  air,  and  the  rogue 
escaped. 


AN   INQUIRY  ANSWERED. 

"  DOES  Isaac  manifest  any  taste  for  poetry,  Mrs. 
Partington  1 ' '  asked  the  schoolmaster's  wife,  while  con- 
versing on  the  merits  of  the  youthful  Partington.  The 
old  lady  was  basting  a  chicken  that  her  friends  had  sent 
her  from  the  country. 

"  0,  yes!  "  said  the  old  lady,  smiling;  "he  is  very 
partially  fond  of  poultry,  and  it  always  seems  as  if  he 
can't  get  enough  of  it."  The  old  spit  turned  by  the 
fire-place  in  response  to  her  answer  while  the  basting 
was  going  on. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  lady,  "  does  he  show  any  of  the 
divine  afflatus  ?  " 

The  old  lady  thought  a  moment.  "  As  for  the  divine 
flatness  —  I  don't  know  about  it.  He 's  had  all  the 
complaints  of  children,  and  when  he  was  a  baby  he  fell 
and  broke  the  cartridge  of  his  nose ;  but  I  hardly  think 
he  's  had  this  that  you  speak  of." 

The  roasting  chicken  hissed  and  sputtered,  and  Mrs. 
Partin£ton  basted  it  again. 


160  BAILED    OUT. 


BAILED   OUT. 

"So,  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Guzzle,  has  been  arranged  at 
the  bar  for  drunkardice,"  said  Mrs.  Partington;  and  she 
sighed  as  she  thought  of  his  wife  and  children  at  home, 
with  the  cold  Aveather  close  at  hand,  and  the  searching 
winds  intruding  through  the  chinks  in  the  windows  and 
waving  the  tattered  curtain  like  a  banner,  where  the 
little  ones  stood  shivering  by  the  faint  embers.  "  God 
forgive  him  and  pity  them  !  "  said  she,  in  a  tone  of 
voice  tremulous  with  emotion. 

"  But  he  was  bailed  out,"  said  Ike,  who  had  devoured 
the  residue  of  the  paragraph,  and  laid  the  paper  in  a  pan 
of  liquid  custard  that  the  dame  was  preparing  for 
Thanksgiving,  and  sat  swinging  the  oven  door  to  and  fro 
as  if  to  fan  the  fire  that  crackled  and  blazed  within. 

"Bailed  out,  was  he?'"  said  she;  "well,  I  should 
think  it  would  have  been  cheaper  to  have  pumped  him 
out,  for,  when  our  cellar  was  filled,  arter  the  city  fathers 
had  degraded  the  street,  we  had  to  have  it  pumped  out, 
though  there  was  n't  half  so  much  in  it  as  he  has  swilled 
down." 

She  paused  and  reached  up  on  the  high  shelves  of  the 
closet  for  her  pie  plates,  while  Ike  busied  himself  in 
tasting  the  various  preparations.  The  dame  thought 
that  was  the  smallest  quart  of  sweet  cider  she  had  ever 
seen. 


HAVE  YOU   GOT   A   BABY.  161 


HAVE   YOU   GOT  A  BABY? 

A  BACHELOR  friend  of  ours  was  riding,  upon  a  time, 
through  the  state,  when  he  overtook  a  little  girl  and 
boy,  apparently  on  their  way  to  school.  The  little  girl 
appeared  to  be  five  or  six  years  old,  and  was  as  beautiful 
as  a  fairy.  Her  eyes  were  lit  up  with  a  gleam  of  intense 
happiness,  and  her  cheeks  glowed  with  the  hues  of 
health.  Our  bachelor  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  ad- 
miringly. She  met  his  glance  with  a  smile,  and  with  an 
eager  voice  saluted  him  with, 

"  Have  you  got  a  baby  1 " 

He  was  struck  aback  by  the  question,  and  something 
like  a  regret  stole  over  his  mind  as  he  looked  upon  the 
animated  and  beautiful  little  face  before  him. 

"  No,"  he  answered. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  drawing  her  tiny  form  proudly 
up,  "  we  have,"  and  passed  on,  still  smiling,  to  tell  the 
joyous  news  to  the  next  one  she  might  meet. 

What  a  world  of  happiness  to  her  was  concentrated  in 
that  one  idea  —  the  baby  !  And  in  her  joy  she  felt  as 
if  all  must  have  the  same  delight  as  herself;  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  affectionate  pride  to  her,  that  lifted  her  little 
heart  above  the  reach  of  ordinary  care ;  for  in  the  baby 
was  her  world,  and  what  else  had  she  to  crave  ?  Such 
was  the  reflection  of  our  friend,  and  he  remembered  it 
long  enough  to  tell  it  to  us. 
14* 


162         A   HOME   TRUTH.  —  A   SEASONABLE   PUN. 


A  HOME   TRUTH. 

11  WHAT  a  to-do  they  make  about  treating  the  slaves 
bad  at  the  south!  "  said  Mrs.  Partington;  and  everybody 
strained  their  ears  to  catch  an  opinion  that  perhaps  was 
fraught  with  the  destiny  of  millions.  There  was  a  slight 
tremor  in  her  voice,  a  sort  of  rumbling  before  the 
"bustin'  "  of  the  volcano,  and  her  eye  looked  troubled 
as  a  lake  by  a  fitful  gust.  "What  a  to-do  they  do  make 
about  it,  to  be  sure !  But  some  of  our  folks  don't  do  much 
better.  I  know  a  poor  old  colored  man  here  in  Boston 
that  they  treat  jest  like  a  nigger.  People  a'n't  no  better 
than  scribes,  pharisees,  and  hippogriffs,  that  say  one  thing 
and  do  another." 

There  is  truth  in  thy  remarks,  0,  most  estimable  Mrs. 
P.  !  Our  philanthropy,  we  fear,  if  weighed  in  the  just 
balance,  would  be  found  often  sadly  wanting. 


A  SEASONABLE  PUN. 

"  FINE  gloves,  them  !  "  said  old  Roger,  as  he  held  out 
his  hand,  encased  in  a  new  pair  he  had  just  bought.  An 
assent  was  expressed.  "But,"  continued  he,  "  can  you 
tell  me  why  a  man  is  more  likely  to  get  taken  in,  while 
buying  gloves  in  winter  than  in  summer  ? "  They 
could  n't.  "  I  '11  tell  you,  then ;  it 's  because  they  are 
more  apt  to  get  worsted." 


VARICOSE   VEINS,  163 


VARICOSE  VEINS. 

"WHAT  is  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Jewks,  doctor  ?' 
asked  Mrs.  Partington,  as  Dr.  Bolus  passed  her  house. 
She  had  been  watching  for  him  for  half  an  hour  through 
a  chink  in  the  door,  and  people  who  detected  the  end  of 
a  nose  thrust  out  of  the  chink  aforesaid,  stopped  an 
instant  to  look  at  it,  strongly  inclined  to  touch  it  and  see 
what  it  was. 

"  She  is  troubled  with  varicose  veins,  mem,"  replied 
the  doctor,  blandly. 

"  Do  tell !  "  cried  the  old  lady ;  "  well,  that  accounts 
for  her  very  coarse  behavior,  then,  and  it  is  n't  any  fault 
o'  her'n,  arter  all,  poor  woman,  'cause  what  is  to  be  will 
be,  and  if  one  has  very  coarse  veins  what  can  one 
expect  ?  Ah,  we  are  none  of  us  better  than  we  ought  to 
be!" 

"Good  morning,  mem,"  said  Dr.  Bolus,  as  he  turned 
away,  and  the  old  lady  shut  the  door. 

"No  better  than  we  ought  to  be  !  "  What  an  orig- 
inal remark,  and  how  candid  the  admission  !  The  little 
front  entry  heard  it,  and  the  broad  stair  that  led  to  the 
chamber  heard  it,  and  Ike  heard  it,  as  he  sat  in  the 
kitchen,  daubing  up  the  old  lady's  Pembroke  table  with 
flour  paste,  in  an  attempt  to  make  a  kite  out  of  a  choicely- 
saved  copy  of  the  Puritan  Recorder.  "  We  are  no  better 
than  we  ought  to  be"  — generally. 


164  MRS.    PARTINGTON    ON   VACATION 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  ON   VACATION. 

"  FIVE  weeks'  vexation  in  August!"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  when  she  heard  that  the  school  had  a  vacation 
for  five  weeks  ;  ' '  five  weeks'  vexation  !  It  is  a  trying 
season  for  mothers,  and  wearing  and  tearing  to  their 
patience  and  the  jackets  and  trousers  of  the  children. 
Talk  about  the  relaxing  from  study !  I  don't  believe 
it 's  half  as  bad  as  the  green  apples  they  get  in  the 
country.  But  I  do  love  to  see  the  little  dears  enjoying 
themselves,  frisking  about  like  pigs  in  clover,  as  happy 
as  the  days  is  long.  What  an  idea  of  freedom  there  is 
in  a  little  boy  with  his  face  and  hair  full  of  molasses  and 
fun  and  good-nature !  Be  still,  you  good-for-nothing!  " 
cried  she,  as  Ike  attempted  to  take  her  snuff-box ;  "Be 
still,  I  say  !  " 

But  it  was  not  in  anger ;  for  she  felt  in  her  capacious 
pocket,  and,  from  away  down  under  her  snuff-box,  and 
thimbles,  and  bone-buttons,  and  needles,  and  pin-cush- 
ions, and  beeswax,  she  brought  up  a  ball  of  variegated 
hues,  and  smiled  as  she  gave  it  into  his  eager  hand,  and 
bade  him  be  a  good  boy. 


TORCHLIGHT    PATRIOTISM. 


165 


TORCHLIGHT  PATRIOTISM. 

jjooRAY  !  hooray  !  "  yelled 
Ike,  as  he  dashed  in  at  the 
front-door  with  a  lighted 
torch,  swinging  it  over  his 
head,  and  spattering  the 
oily  fluid  around  upon  the 
tables  and  chairs,  a  drop 
even  falling  upon  the  snow- 
white  table-cover  that  lay 
folded  up  on  a  shelf.  The 
smoke  of  the  torch  filled 
the  kitchen,  and  rolled 
along  the  snow-white  ceil- 
ing in  murky  volume,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  Mrs. 
Partington,  who  always  said  if  there  was  anything  on 
"  airth  "  that  she  held  in  utter  "  excrescence,"  it  was 
"  ile." 

"What's  to  pay  now?"  said  the  dame  rising,  and 
she  heard,  through  the  floor,  the  noise  made  by  the 
"  unterrified  democracy  "  in  torchlight  procession  assem- 
bled. Paul  was  a  democrat,  and  her  sympathy  kept  time 
with  the  martial  music. 

"  Quite  a  furor,"  said  we  to  her  as  we  recognized  her. 
A  tremendous  cheer  interrupted  us. 

"  A.  few  roar,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  I  think  it  is  a  good 
many  roar.  Ah  ! "  continued  she,  "  I  do  love  to  see  the 


166       MRS.  PARTINGTON  ON  SUFFRAGE. 

unclarified  democracy  in  possession,  with  their  torches  a 
blazing  and  their  patrickism  a  busting." 

She  felt  patriotic.  Her  face  was  momentarily  lit  up 
with  the  emotions  of  her  soul  and  the  light  of  a  Roman 
candle,  and  then  the  venerable  countenance  melted  away 
in  the  darkness,  as  the  candle,  after  making  a  great  effort 
to  sustain  itself,  became  exhausted  and  snuffed  itself  out. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  ON  SUFFRAGE. 

"How  these  men  do  talk  about  exercising  their  right 
of  sufferings  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington ;  "  as  if  nobody  in 
the  world  suffered  but  themselves.  They  don't  think  of 
our  sufferings.  We,  poor  creturs,  must  suffer  and  say 
nothing  about  it,  and  drink  cheap  tea,  and  be  troubled 
with  the  children,  and  scour  and  scrub  our  souls  out ; 
and  we  never  say  a  thing  about  it.  But  a  man  comes  on 
regularly,  once  a  year,  like  a  Farmer's  Almanac,  and 
grumbles  about  his  sufferings ;  and  it 's  only  then  jest  to 
choose  a  governor,  arter  all.  These  men  are  hard  cre- 
turs to  find  out,  and  a' n't  worth  much  after  you  have 
found  'em  out." 

This  was  intended  as  a  lesson  to  Margaret,  who  was 
working  Charlotte  and  Werter  on  a  blue  ground,  at  her 
side;  but  Margaret  had  her  own  idea  of  the  matter,  and 
remained  silent. 


DOWN    WITH    THE    TYRANT.  167 


DOWN  WITH   THE  TYRANT. 

"  HA  !  ha  !  Down  with  the  tyrant !  Death  to  the 
Spaniard  ! ' '  shouted  Ike,  as  he  rushed  into  the  kitchen, 
brandishing  Paul's  old  artillery  sword  that  had  hung  so 
long  on  the  wall.  He  struck  an  attitude,  and  then  struck 
the  upright  portion  of  the  stove  funnel  till  it  rung  with 
the  blow,  and  Mrs.  Partington,  with  amazement  on  her 
countenance  and  the  glass  lamp  in  her  hand,  stood  look- 
ing at  him.  Ike  had  been  reading  the  thrilling  tale  of 
the  "  Black  Avenger,  or  the  Pirate  of  the  Spanish 
Main,"  and  his  "  intellects,"  as  Sir  Hugh  Evans  might 
say,  were  absorbed  by  the  horrible. 

"Don't,  Isaac,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  and  she 
spoke  in  a  gentle,  but  firm  tone.  "  You  are  very  scarify- 
ing, and  it  don't  look  well  to  see  a  young  boy  acting  so. 
It  comes,  I  know,  of  reading  them  yellow  cupboard 
books.  You  should  read  good  ones ;  and  if  you  won't 
touch  that  again  I  will  let  you  have  my  big  Bible,  king 
James's  aversion,  with  the  beautiful  pictures.  I  declare, 
I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  you  if  you  carry  on 
so.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  send  you  to  a  geologi- 
cal cemetery  to  get  the  old  sancho  out  of  you." 

The  point  of  the  sword  was  lowered  as  it  was  making 
a  passage  for  a  dark  spot  in  the  centre  panel  of  the  door; 
the  eye  of  the  boy,  so  fiercely  lit  by  the  spirit  of  the 
"Black  Avenger,"  became  mild  and  laughing,  as  he 
said  he  was  only  "  making  b'lieve,"  and  Mrs.  Partington 
gave  him  a  penny  as  she  disarmed  him.  What  a  visible 


168  MRS.  PARTINGTON   AND   THE   CLERK. 

emotion  of  peanuts  became  manifest  as  he  grasped  th* 
copper  and  made  tracks  for  the  door,  and  climbed  ovei 
the  snow  drifts  to  reach  the  grocer's  opposite  ! 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AND  THE  CLERK. 

"Is  the  steamer  signified,  sir?"  asked  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton  at  the  telegraph  station. 

"  Yes'm,"  replied  the  clerk,  who  was  busily  engaged 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  day-book. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  continued  she,  "if  the  queen'a 
encroachment  has  taken  place  yet?" 

"  Some  say  she  is  encroaching  all  the  time,"  said  the 
clerk,  looking  pleasantly  at  the  old  lady,  and  evidently 
pleased  with  his  own  smartness. 

"  That  isn't  possible,"  responded  the  venerable  dame  ; 
"  but,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  how  could  he  be  expected 
to  know  about  such  things  1  and  yet  there  is  no  reason 
why  he  should  n't,  for  all  the  bars  to  science,  'notamy 
and  them  things,  is  let  down  now-a-days,  and  Natur  is 
shown  all  undressed,  like  a  puppet-show,  sixpence  a 
sight ! " 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  she,  as  he  bowed  her  out; 
and  as  she  passed  down  the  stairs  her  mind,  grasping  the 
manifold  subjects  of  the  telegraph,  queen,  and  facilities 
in  science,  became  oblivious  in  a  fog. 


THANKSGIVING    DAT.  169 


THOUGHT  FOR  THANKSGIVING  DAY. 

THIS'  day,  long  celebrated  in  New  England,  again 
returns,  amid  whose  festivities  the  heart  expands  itself 
and  awakes  anew  to  cheerful  life.  Though  the  whole 
year  has  bound  it  with  selfish  fetters,  and  it  has  pursued 
unremittingly  its  aim  of  worldly  gain  or  worldly  ad- 
vancement, on  this  day  all  the  avenues  to  its  genialities 
are  thrown  open,  and  troops  of  kindly  feelings,  long 
strangers,  come  thronging  back  to  their  early  home,  as 
their  possessors  return,  on  this  glad  season,  and  revisit 
the  source  from  whence  they  sprung. 

It  is  a  tune  of  glee  and  a  time  of  thankfulness,  —  the 
twin  feelings  of  the  season.  The  jny  of  meeting  after 
long  separation ;  the  gathering  of  n.endly  faces  about 
the  generous  board ;  the  hilarious  song  and  the  graceful 
dance ;  the  sports  of  childhood,  and  the  heart-  mingling 
of  youth  old  enough  and  willing  to  love,  —  all  are  wor- 
ship, and  offerings  of  thankfulness,  where  sweet  inno- 
cence lends  its  charm. 

It  was  known,  months  ago,  that  Tom  was  to  come 
home  from  the  city  to  Thanksgiving.  He  had  been  gone 
a  whole  year,  and  when  his  great  red  face  had  disap- 
peared it  seemed  for  a  while  as  if  the  sun  had  ceased  to 
shine.  His  first  letter  was  an  event  in  the  lives  of  "  the 
old  folks  at  home,"  and  Tom's  sisters;  and  Tom's  sisters 
had  to  carry  the  letter  all  round  the  neighborhood,  that 
people  might  see  how  well  he  could  write,  and  what 
15 


170  THANKSGIVING    DAY. 

proper  words  ho  used,  and  how  he  crossed  his  t's  and 
minded  his  i's.  But  Tom  has  written  many  letters  since, 
and  the  novelty  has  worn  off;  but  the  affection  around 
the  old  homestead  is  as  bright  as  ever.  And  Tom  is 
actually  coming  home  to  Thanksgiving,  and  the  girls 
will  pinch  his  red  cheeks  and  tease  him  with  their  kind- 
nesses as  they  used  to  do.  His  last  letter  tells  his 
father  that  he  must  have  the  mare  at  the  depot  by  six 
o'clock.  The  girls  insist  that  they  will  drive  down  to 
meet  him;  they're  not  afraid  of  a  horse,  not  they, 
and  go  they  will.  The  house  is  swept,  and  the  wood  is 
piled  up  in  the  best-room  fire-place,  and  the  floor  is 
newly  sanded,  and  the  chair  with  the  new  tidy  that 
'Bella  has  knit  is  in  its  place  for  Master  Tom  when 
he  comes ;  for  Tom  has  got  to  be  a  character,  and  it 
is  a  question  if  more  preparation  could  be  made  for  a 
king's  reception.  The  old  folks  talk  of  his  coming,  and 
a  softer  expression  than  usual  mingles  in  their  voices, 
and  the  clock  is  watched  for  the  hour  of  his  appearing. 
Here  they  are  at  last !  And  the  red-faced  boy  gets  out. 
Father  !  Mother  !  God  bless  you  both  !  —  and  he  is  a 
child  again,  —  the  child  of  the  old  homestead,  —  and 
he  loves  every  stick  in  the  old  house  better  than  ever 
before. 

It  is  not  time  to  talk  yet  about  the  big  city,  —  that  is 
•served  for  the  evening,  when  they  are  seated  round  the 
aeerful  fire.     Now  he  must  answer  the  questions  about 
iis  health,  and  if  his  last  stockings  fitted,  and  what  he 
thought  when  he  heard  his  aunt  Deborah  had  got  mar- 
ried, and  if  his  cousin  John  had  given  him  the  little 
Bible  bis  old  schoolmistress  sent  him,  —  they  knew  he 


THANKSGIVING   DAY.  171 

had,  because  Tom  had  said  so  in  a  letter  home,  —  and  if 
he  heard  that  his  cousin  Sally  had  got  a  baby ! 
Heavens !  how  the  questions  pour  in  upon  him,  and 
will,  until  he  gets  his  turn  to  ask,  and  theirs  comes  to 
answer. 

This  is  a  picture-sample  of  a  thousand  such.  Freights 
of  happiness  are  borne  on  every  railroad  car ;  the  steam 
whistle  of  the  locomotive  conveys  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to 
many  a  listening  heart ;  the  hum  of  business  palls  the 
ear  that  listens  for  happiness,  and  the  shutters  are  put 
up  for  one  day,  —  the  heart's  jubilee. 

Though  sin  and  excess  may  mark  and  mar  its  hilar- 
ity, an  aggregate  of  joy  remains  to  it  commensurate  with 
the  virtue  that  remains  to  us.  The  noise  of  the  turkey 
is  heard  in  the  land  ;  ovations  are  made  to  the  genius  of 
plenty;  groaning  tables  pave  the  way  to  groaning 
stomachs,  and  thankfulness  works  its  way  out  between 
the  scant  apertures  left  in  compact  stomach  stowage. 

Heaven  give  the  rich  heart  to  help  the  poor,  and  to 
make  them  thankful  on  this  day,  in  spite  of  the  three 
hundred  and  sixty-four  other  days  of  hardship  and  pri- 
vation ! 


172         PEACE   INCULCATED. — HUMAN    NATURE. 


PEACE   INCULCATED. 

"  BETTER  is  a  crust  of  bread  and  quietness  therewith 
than  a  stollid  ox  and  strife,"  said'Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
heard  the  noise  of  wrangling  in  a  neighbor's  house.  It 
was  a  Sunday  morning,  and  Ike  was  cleaning  his  shoes 
by  the  door  with  the  clothes-brush.  "  Why  can't  folks 
live  in  peace,  without  distention  ?  How  much  people 
have  to  answer  for  that  causes  animosity  in  a  neighbor- 
hood !  Thank  Heaven,  I  've  never  done  anything  of  the 
kind  that  my  conscience  acquits  me  of.  " 

With  what  a  feeling  this  was  uttered  !  And  the  sun- 
light came  into  the  window,  and  looked  through  her  specs 
down  into  her  soul,  and  it  was  as  calm  there  as  the  bot- 
tom of  a  well,  not  disturbed  by  Ike's  whistling  ' '  Old 
Dan  Tucker"  as  an  accompaniment  to  his  brush. 


HUMAN   NATURE. 

SEAT  eleven  millionaires  in  an  omnibus,  and  seat 
between  them  one  old  woman  who  has  but  five  coppers 
in  the  world,  which  she  intends  to  invest  in  that  one 
ride.  When  the  collector  comes  in,  and  the  old  lady 
takes  out  her  antique  wallet  to  pay  him,  it  is  curious  to 
observe  the  avidity  and  eagerness  with  which  the  million- 
aires watch  her  operations,  and  peep  over  to  catch  a 
glimpse  at  the  interior  of  the  wallet.  That  is  human 
nature. 


MR.  STEADFAST',-?  SOLILOQUY.  173 


MR.  STEADFAST'S   SOLILOQUY. 

".YELL,  my  mind  's  at  last  made  up.  I  'm  going  against 
rum,  this  'lection.  I've  made  up  my  mind  on  that  pint, 
and  there  's  no  shaking  me.  When  I  say  my  mind 's 
made  up,  folks  may  know  what  to  depend  upon.  Yes,  I 
go  against  rum.  It 's  time-  we  looked  about  us.  It 's 
time  the  people  got  their  eyes  open  to  the  evil,  —  and 
I  :m  one  of  'em.  But  (stopping  suddenly)  the  party  ! 
—  what  would  the  party  say  7  I  did  n't  think  of  that  be- 
fore. The  party,  of  course,  must  be  looked  to.  What 
could  we  do  without  party  1  Where  would  the  Union  be, 
and  our  institutions  and  what-do-ye-call-its,  if  it  was  n't 
for  the  party,  I  should  like  to  know  1  Party  is  our  egeus, 
our  pal-pal-what  's  his  name.  But  I  can't  go  against  rum 
without  going  against  party.  If  I  vote  against  rum,  and 
the  temperance  inspectors  and  constables  and  things  are 
chosen,  where  would  our  institutions  be,  and  our  destiny 
as  a  nation,  and  the  respect  of  people  abroad,  who  we 
don't  care  a  copper  about  1  And  then,  if  I  vote  for  party, 
and  rum  triumphs,  it  would  go  on,  undermining  our  moral 
institutions  and  our  physical  constitutions.  So,  hang 
me,  betwixt  'em  both,  if  I  know  what  to  do  !  I  have  it. 
I  '11  make  a  compromise  between  cold  water  and  rum,  and 
make  it  half  rum  and  the  other  half  rum-and-water. 
That 's  the  ticket,  and  my  mind  's  made  up  to  vote  it 
When  my  mind  's  made  up,  there  's  no  moving  me  ! 
15* 


174  MRS.    PARTIXOTOX    RURALIZING. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  RURALIZING. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  and  Ike  were  huckleberrying  in  the 
country,  and  a  large  swamp  was  wearily  canvassed  to 
iind  the  quart  which  she  bore  in  her  five-quart  pail. 
She  despaired  of  filling  it. 

"  Look  here,  aunt,"  said  Ike,  in  a  sort  of  confidential 
whisper,  "  look  in  there  and  see  what  a  lot  of  'em." 

There  Avas  a  smile  upon  the  face"  of  the  boy,  that 
betokened  mischief,  or  it  might  have  been  a  gleam  of 
satisfaction  at  the  prospect  of  filling  the  pail ;  but  certain- 
ly a  smile  was  round  the  little  mouth,  and  the  eye  caught 
it,  and  a  roguish  twinkle  like  a  sunbeam  lay  sparkling 
there. 

11 1  see  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  and  a  moment  later  the 
log-cabin  bonnet,  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  was  seen 
above  the  tops  of  the  bushes,  its  restlessness  indicating 
its  wearer's  activity.  Ike  remained  outside. 

Fizz-z-z  —  Buzz-z-z  !  —  what  was  that  ?  —  a  humble- 
bee,  as  we  are  a  sinner.  Another  and  another.  The  log 
cabin  was  besieged,  and  Mrs.  Partington  rushed  franti- 
cally from  the  bushes,  swinging  the  tin  pail  and  crying 
"  Shoo  !  shoo  !  "  with  all  her  might.  It  was  a  trying 
time  for  the  widow  of  Corporal  Paul.  And  Ike  did  not 
escape,  for  a  big  bumblebee  attacked  him,  and  he  roared 
heartily  with  a  sting  upon  his  cheek.  The  laugh  disap- 
peared. 

At  the   recital  of  their  troubles  at  home,  people  re- 


VENTILATION.  175 

garded  the  matter  as  a  trick  of  Ike's  ;  but  how  could  he 
have  known  about  the  bumblebee's  nest  being  in  there  1 
Mrs.  Partington  avowed  that  she  "never  was  so  frus-. 
trated  by  anything  in  her  born  days,"  and  the  people 
believed  her.  She  thinks,  notwithstanding  the  bees,  that 
she  would  like  to  have  a  "  villain"  in  the  country,  and 
become  an  "  amatory"  farmer. 


VENTILATION. 

IN  the  course  of  his  rambles  in  the  country,  Mr. 
Spotgam  called  at  a  poor-looking  house  by  the  road-side 
to  inquire  the  whereabouts  of  a  trout  brook  which  he 
supposed  to  be  in  the  vicinity.  Some  pretty  children 
attracted  his  attention,  and  he  stepped  inside  the  door  to 
play  with  them,  and  invest  a  few  cents  in  their  affection. 
Their  father  came  in  a  moment  afterwards,  and  appeared 
somewhat  confused  to  find  a  stranger  in  his  humble 
domicile. 

"Warm,  sir,"  said  he,  wiping  his  forehead;  "wife, 
throw  up  the  window,  and  let  us  have  a  mouthful  of  fresh 
air." 

Mr.  Spotgam  looked  at  the  window  about  to  be 
thrown  up,  and  saw  with  pain  that  every  square  of  glass 
had  been  broken  out.  His  mind  turned  to  a  nice  mathe- 
matical calculation,  in  which  he  endeavored  to  make  out 
the  difference  between  the  quantity  of  air  received  through 
an  open  window  and  one  with  no  glass  in  it,  and  gave  it 
up  in  despair. 


176 


LETTER  FROM   IKE,    IN   THE   COUNTRY. 


LETTER  FROM  IKE,  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

HILLTOP,  Sept.  10,  1852. 
EAR  BOB  —  I  wish  you 
was  up  here,  and  the 
way  we  would  train  you 
would  n't  be  slow.  There 
is  boys  enough  up  here, 
but  they  don't  know 
nothing.  When  I  first 
come  they  did  n't  know 
how  to  play  jack-stones ! 
But  you  'd  better  be- 
lieve I  soon  made  'em 
fly  round.  I  've  found 
enough  to  do  since  I  've  been  here.  We  've  got  a  boat, 
and  we  go  out  swimming  every  day.  The  boat  tips  over 
ever  so  easy,  and  don't  you  think,  the  other,  day, 
when  we  were  out  with  the  girls,  we  tipped  over  right 
where  the  water  was  overhead,  and  we  all  had  to  get 
onto  her  bottom.  I  was  n't  at  all  skeered,  though  every- 
body said  they  knowed  I  did  it  on  purpose.  But  you 
know  I  wouldn't. 

We  '  ve  had  some  prime  fun  out  a  gunning.  We  did  n't 
kill  anything  only  some  tame  pigeons ;  but  we  put  some 
green  beans  into  the  gun  and  shot  the  dog,  and  he  ki-hi'd 
just  as  if  he  did  n't  like  it.  I  can  fire  at  a  mark  first-rate. 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  goose  I  made  with  wheel-grease 


LETTER  FROM  IKE,  IN  THE  COUNTRY.     177 

on  the  newly-painted  barn-door, —  it's  peppered  brim  full 
of  holes.  There  's  lots  of  apples  and  peaches,  and  if  you 
was  here  we'd  be  in  among  'em.  There's  some  over 
there  in  the  pasture  just  like  some  in  our  garden,  but 
them  in  the  pasture  is  best,  and  they  belong  to  the  old 
captain,  and  he  's  a  cross  old  fellow,  and  I  should  like  to 
fix  him,  cause  he  set  his  dog  on  me  t'  other  day,  because 
I  fired  an  apple  at  one  of  his  hens,  and  broke  a  square  of 
glass.  He 's  a  real  cross  old  chap,  and  has  n't  got  no 
friends. 

There  's  some  fine  ponds  here,  and  lots  of  mud  turtles, 
but  all  that  is  humbug  about  their  leaving  their  shell 
when  you  put  a  coal  of  fire  onto  their  backs,  because 
I  've  tried  it.  It  makes  'em  go  it,  though,  I  tell  you. 
Our  dog  is  first-rate  for  catching  of  'em,  and  I  got  a 
dozen  of  'em  t'  other  day  to  bring  home,  and  put  'em  in 
a  barrel,  and  forgot  all  about  'em,  and  there  they  stayed 
for  ten  days.  I  put  'em  in  the  water  again,  and  away 
they  went.  Don't  you  think,  Bob,  I  caught  a  big  bull 
paddock  and  harnessed  him  the  other  day,  and  you  should 
have  seen  him  kick  when  I  let  him  go. 

I  don't  like  the  oxen  they  have  here,  because  they 
don't  laugh,  and  when  they  are  hauling  anything  they 
seem  to  do  it  unwilling  like,  and  look  surly  and  cross. 
Reasoning  with  'em  don't  do  no  good.  I  ride  the  horse 
to  water  and  drive  the  geese  out  of  the  corn.  Up  in  the 
corn  yesterday  I  found  what  I  thought  was  a  great  big 
water-melon,  and  when  I  got  over  the  wall  and  cut  il 
it  turned  out  to  be  a  green  punkin. 

They  have  begun  to  make  sweet  cider,  and  I  don't  see 


178  OUT   OF   PLACE. 

what  people  ever  want  to  make  sour  cider  for  when  thia 
is  so  nice. 

I  s'pose  school  begins  soon,  and  the  old  woman  will 
want  me  to  come  home ;  but  I  don't  want  to  a  mite. 

Tell  Jim  Jones  I've  swapped   my  jackknife,  and  got 
a  bran-new  hawkey  that  I  cut  myself  in  the  bushes. 

Good-by,  Bob.      Write  to  me  if  you  've  had  any  fun 
this  summer,  and  I  am  yours  in  clover. 

IKE  PABTINGTON. 


OUT  OF  PLACE. 

"DOES  your  arm  pain  you  much,  sir?"  asked  a 
young  lady  of  a  gentleman  who  had  seated  himself  near 
her,  in  a  mixed  assembly,  and  thrown  his  arm  across  the 
back  of  her  chair,  and  slightly  touched  her  neck. 

"  No,  miss,  it  does  not ;  but  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  noticed  it  was  considerably  out  of  place,  sir,"  re- 
plied she;  "that's  all." 

The  arm  was  removed. 


TENDER  NAMES.  179 


TENDER  NAMES. 

THERE  are  people,  in  the  romantic  period  of  their  lives, 
who  delight  in  bestowing  tender  terms  upon  objects  of 
their  affection,  borrowed  from  the  pretty  things  of  nature 
or  fancy,  such  as  "  My  Rose  Bud,"  "  My  Pink,"  "  My 
Diamond,"  "My  Lily,"  or  some  such  nice  and  delicate 
name.  Of  all  that  we  have  ever  heard,  however,  the 
Irish  term,  "My  Bloomer,"  sounds  to  us  the  best. 

These  terms  are  all  well  enough  when  used  in  private 
endearment,  but  when  uttered  in  the  presence  of  others 
they  operate  with  a  most  nauseating  effect.  Fancy  a 
man,  brimfull  of  the  charms  of  his  Dulcinea,  to  whom  he 
has  given  some  romantic  appellative,  coming  into  a  tailor's 
shop,  among  the  forty  girls  there  employed,  of  whom  his 
heart's  hope  is  one,  and  asking  if  his  "  Rose  Bud"  is 
present,  or  addressing  her  as  his  "  Rose  Bud,"  if  she  be 
there.  If  the  girl  has  any  sense  she  will  prove  a  "  Rose 
Bud  "  with  a  thorn  when  she  gets  him  out  somewhere. 

We  had  a  friend  who  was  smitten  with  this  mania  for 
pretty  names,  and  had  adopted  the  romantic  one  of  "My 
Light  '*  for  his  idol ;  and  for  several  years  she  had  lighted 
his  path  and  his  pocket  in  the  way  that  lovers  under- 
stand. It  grew  near  the  period  when  the  word  was  to 
be  spoken  that  should  make  them  "one  flesh,"  when, 
calling  at  her  dwelling  one  evening,  he  asked  the  houser 
girl,  who  met  him  in  the  entry,  if  his  "Light"  was 
in. 


180  LEARNING    TO    RELISH    IT. 

"No,"  said  she,  "your  light  has  just  gone  out  — 
with  Mr.  ,"  naming  an  old  rival. 

Jealous  pains  seized  him ;  he  rushed  to  his  boarding- 
house,  dashed  madly  up  stairs,  three  at  a  time,  opened 
his  drawer,  and,  seizing  a — pen,  wrote  a  letter  that 
extinguished  his  "Light"  forever.  It  was  a  severe  blow 
to  his  spirit,  and  in  six  months  from  the  time  of  his 
disappointment  the  poor  fellow  committed  matrimony 
•with  another  and  a  more  steady  "  Light,"  the  flame  of 
which  burns  undimmed  even  now. 


LEARNING  TO   RELISH   IT. 

WE.  were  surprised  to  see  Mr.  Slow  at  an  opera  one 
evening.  Leaning  over  the  back  of  his  seat,  we  re- 
marked that  we  had  an  impression  that  he  did  n't  like 
opera  music. 

"  I  never  did,"  said  he,  "  till  lately  ;  but  I  've  been 
eddicatmg  for  it.  It  can  be  done.  Talk  about  natur's 
having  all  to  do  with  it !  that 's  all  humbug.  Natur 
don't  have  any  more  to  do  with  it  than  she  does  with 
learnin  us  to  eat  tomatoes,  nor  sardines,  nor  olives,  - 
but  by  eddication  we  come  to  like  'em.  That 's  jest  the 
way  with  opery  music.  The  first  time  you  don't  like  it ; 
then  you  get  another  taste,  and  it 's  better ;  then  you  go 
a  little  further,  and  it 's  first-rate.  There 's  nothing  like 
eddication.  Natur  is  well  enough  in  her  place,  but 
eddication  does  the  job." 

Mr.  Slow  looked  grave  as  he  uttered  this  oracular 
wisdom,  and  his  auditors  admired. 


PHLEBOTOMY    A    DISEASE.  181 


PHLEBOTOMY  A  DISEASE. 

"Do  you  think  people  are  troubled  as  much  with 
fleabottomry,  now,  doctor,  as  they  used  to  be  before  they 
diskivered  the  anti-bug  bedstead?"  asked  Mrs.  Part- 
ington  of  the  doctor  of  the  old  school  who  attended  upon 
the  family  where  she  was  staying. 

"  Phlebotomy,  madam,"  said  the  doctor  gravely,  "is 
a  remedy,  not  a  disease." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  she,  "no  wonder  one  gets  'em 
mixed  up,  there  is  so  many  of  'em.  We  never  heard  in 
old  times  of  tonsors  in  the  throat,  or  embargoes  in  the 
head,  or  neurology  all  over  us,  or  consternation  -in  the 
bowels,  as  we  do  now-a-days.  But  it 's  an  ill  wind  that 
don't  blow  nobody  no  good,  and  the  doctors  flourish  on 
it  like  a  green  baize  tree.  But  of  course  they  don't 
have  anything  to  do  with  it,  —  they  can't  make  them 
come  or  go." 

The  doctor  stepped  out  with  a  genteel  bow,  and  the 
old  lady  watched  him  till  his  cabriolet  had  turned  the 
corner,  her  mind  revolving  the  intricate  subject  of  cause 
and  effect.  , 

16 


182  HIRSUTE    ORNAMENTS. 


HIRSUTE   ORNAMENTS. 

"  WELL  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  leaned  for- 
ward, with  her  hands  resting  on  the  window  ledge,  and 
peered  out  into  the  street  through  a  chink  in  the  blinds. 
It  was  n't  a  deep  well,  expressive  of  content  or  satisfac- 
tion, but  it  was  an  ejaculatory  well,  that  found  expres- 
sion at  some  object  which  she  had  witnessed  in  the 
street.  "  Well,"  said  she,  "  I  hope  that  man  is  married, 
I  declare  I  do ;  because,  if  he  is  n't,  I  'm  sure  he  never 
will  be,  for  a  dreadfuler  looking  creature  I  never  did  see, 
with  them  mustychokes  on  his  mouth  —  nobody  would  n't 
have  him.  I  've  heerd  'em  say  that  Heaven's  best  gift 
to  man  was  woman ;  I  should  say  that  the  next  best  gift 
was  a  razor  to  such  a  man  as  that.  Folks  did  n'  t  take 
pride  in  looking  bad  in  old  times  !  " 

She  turned  thoughtfully  to  the  wall,  where  hung  in 
military  rigidity  that  profile,  the  cherished  gem  of  by- 
gone art,  the  counterfeit  presentment  of  manly  grace. 

"Ah,  Paul ! "  sighed  the  dame,  "you  was  an  ornament 
of  your  specie,  and  the  cheapest  among  ten  thousand,  or 
more!  "  She  emphasised  the  "more,"  as  if  the  con- 
trast was  very  great  indeed  between  Paul  and  him  who 
had  passed.  But  the  profile  took  no  notice  of  what  she 
said ;  its  gaze,  chained  to  perpetual  straightforwardness, 
looked  never  to  the  right  or  left ;  though,  at  times,  she 
said  it  bore  a  kinder  expression  about  the  mouth.  But 
this  must  have  been  her  fancy,  which  gave  to  every 
object  she  looked  upon  the  hues  of  her  own  benignity. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON    AND    PRORATE.  188 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   AND   PROBATE. 

"  0,  WHAT  trials  a  poor  widow  has  to  go  through  !  " 
sighed  Mrs.  Partington,  rocking  herself  in  a  melancholy 
way,  and  holding  the  morsel  of  maccaboy  untasted 
between  her  thumb  and  finger ;  "  terrible  trials  ;  and  0, 
what  a  hardship  it  is  to  be  executioner  to  an  intestine 
estate — where  enviable  people  are  trying  every  way  to 
overcome  the  widow's  might ;  where  it 's  probe  it,  probe 
it,  probe  it,  all  the  time,  and  the  more  you  probe  it  the 
worse  it  seems  !  The  poor  widow  never  gets  justice,  for 
if  she  gets  all,  she  don't  get  half  enough.  I  have  had 
one  trial  of  it,  and  if  ever  I  should  marry  again,  if  it 
should  so  please  Providence  to  order  it,  I  '11  make  my 
husband  fabricate  his  will  before  he  orders  his  wedding- 
cake  ;  —  I  '11  take  Time  by  the  foretop,  as  Solomon  says, 
you  may  depend  upon  it." 

She  here  reyived  a  little,  and  the  subtle  powder  passed 
to  its  destination,  and  reported  itself  home  by  an  em- 
phatic sneeze. 


EXTRACT  from  a  great  unwritten  poem  of  1051  verses, 
entitled  "  Ye  Constabel "  :  — 


"  Ye  constabel  from  one  man  took 

A  large  and  ample  fee, 
I  '11  now  take  one  from  ye  t'other  side, 
Said  ye  oonstabel,  said  he." 


184  DOMESTIC    PURITY    IMPUGNED. 


DOMESTIC   PURITY  IMPUGNED. 

"  HAVE  you  got  any  rooms  to  let  here,  marm  ?  "  said 
a  little  man  to  Mrs.  Partington,  who  occupied  half  of  a 
house,  the  other  half  of  which  was  to  let,  and  to  whom 
was  entrusted  the  care  of  answering  the  door  -bell. 

The  rooms  were  shown. 

"  They  are  not  large,"  said  the  little  man,  depreciat- 


"No,  sir,"  replied  she,  "they  are  not  very  ruminous  ; 
but  here  are  two  little  bed-rooms  contagious  that  perhaps 
you  didn't  see." 

He  looked  in,  and,  in  a  supercilious  tone,  muttered, 
"Bugs!"  implying  want  of  cleanliness,  —  a  reflection 
on  the  purity  of  the  premises  in  her  charge  ! 

There  is  a  point,  as  she  says,  where  patience  ceases  to 
be  virtuous,  and  she  had  found  it.  Indignation  choked 
her  utterance  ;  and  the  little  man  fortunately  departed 
before  it  found  vent.  It  was  great,  the  way  in  which 
she  slammed  the  door  to  after  him,  and  ejaculated 
"  Bugs!  "  till  the  empty  rooms  in  echoing  it  seemed  full 
of  bugs.  It  was  a  sublime  moral  spectacle. 


DID    IT    HURT    YOU    MUCH?  185 


DID  IT  HURT  YOU  MUCH? 

WHILOM  there  did  dwell  a  barber  in  one  of  the  most 
populous  streets  of  this  city,  the  hues  of  whose  insignia 
by  the  street  door,  red  and  white,  were  typical  often  of 
his  customer's  chins  as  they  came  under  his  professional 
hand.  Suds  was  a  little  fellow,  but  many  a  huge  six- 
footer  did  he  have,  unresisting,  by  the  nose,  and  many  a 
fierce  eye  quailed  beneath  the  gleam  of  that  blade  whose 
edge  so  many  had  keenly  felt.  It  was  a  sublime  spec- 
tacle to  behold  him  while  enjoying  his  momentary  tri- 
umph, —  his  face  absolutely  shiny  between  the  combined 
influence  of  sweat  and  exultation,  —  his  razor,  urged  by 
the  fervor  of  his  excitation,  whirling  through  seas  of 
snowy  lather  with  the  rapidity  of  thought,  — his  customer, 
meanwhile,  with  eyes  shut,  and  breath  suspended,  await- 
ing tremblingly  the  blow  that  should  send  him  forth 
noseless,  a  scoif  and  a  reproach  among  men;  though, 
thanks  to  mighty  science,  such  calamity  seldom  hap- 
pened. 

A  farmer,  who  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  the  city,  and 
supplied  the  people  thereof  with  fruit,  was  excessively 
annoyed  by  the  boys,  who  would  climb  upon  his  wagon 
and  bite  his  apples,  while  inquiring  the  price,  and  pre- 
tending a  desire  to  purchase.  He  took  a  big  and  fearful 
oath,  one  day,  —  he  was  a  very  crabbed  man,  —  that  the 
first  boy  who  that  day  took  a  bite  should  likewise  take  a 
cut  with  it ;  he  swore  it  on  his  whip  ! 
16* 


186          DID  IT  HURT  YOU  MUCH? 

He  jogged  on  undisturbed  ;  the  urchins  read  " 
lash"  in  his  demeanor,  and  judiciously  gave  him  a  wide 
berth.  But  Fate,  that  generally  has  to  bear  the  odium 
of  causing  all  evil,  —  that  by  many  is  deemed  a  sort  of 
subordinate  Providence,  who,  in  conjunction  with  Luck, 
another  genius  of  the  same  kidney,  takes  the  destiny  of 
men  to  work  out  by  the  job,  —  pulled  the  reins  directly 
opposite  the  barber's  door. 

Now,  Mrs.  Suds  had  that  very  day  charged  Mr.  S.  to 
procure  some  fruit,  —  she  did  "  long  so  to  eat  an  apple," 
—  and  he,  as  he  was  looking  out  of  his  window,  his  last 
customer  having  departed,  was  minded  of  her  request,  as 
the  wagon,  with  its  rich  and  tempting  load,  stopped 
within  the  range  of  his  vision.  He  was  fond  of  apples 
himself,  and,  running  hastily  out,  he  stepped  upon  the 
wagon  wheel,  took  up  an  apple,  and  bit  it,  and  at  the 
same  time  inquired  the  price. 

Fatal  bite  !  —  to  Suds  fatal  as  the  first  bite  in  Par- 
adise was  to  Adam-  A  whistling  sound  he  heard  in  the 
air,  and  then  the  whip,  stinging  with  the  malignity  of 
concentrated  spite,  fell  quick  upon  his  unguarded  shoul- 
ders, to  his  deep  shame,  and  astonishment,  and  pain. 
Jumping  down  as  quick  as  he  could,  he  stood  on  the 
pavement,  an  injured  and  indignant  man,  and  fiercely 
demanded  the  cause  of  the  outrage. 

The  farmer  had  mistaken  him  for  a  boy,  and,  profuse 
of  apology,  endeavored  to  appease  the  little  lion  of  the 
brush  by  stating  his  annoyance  by  the  boys,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  loss  by  biters,  and  his  determination  to 
put  a  stop  to  it  by  the  summary  means  he  had  given 
Suds  a  taste  of.  Suds  was  a  reasonable  man,  and  ad- 


DID    IT    HURT   YOU    MUCH  ?  187 

mitted  that  the  farmer  was  nearly  right,  even  while  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the  remembered  pain,  and 
they  parted  on  as  good  terms  as  the  circumstances  would 
admit  of. 

Unfortunately  for  the  peace  of  the  little  man,  a  neigh- 
bor, who  loved  to  stir  up  Suds,  had  seen  the  castigation. 
and  each  day  as  he  came  to  be  shaved  would  he  ask 
with  the  tenderest  solicitude,  "  Did  it  hurt  you  much  ?  " 

—  always  after  shaving,  however ;  for   his  nose  would 
certainly  have  been  in  the  way  during  the  agitation  the 
question  produced,  had  he  asked  it  before.  That  question, 
so  sneeringly  asked  !     Human  nature  could  n't  stand  it, 
patience  could  n't  stand  it,  Suds  could  n't  stand  it ;   and 
that  question  was  a  declaration  of  war  with  all  who  put 
it  to  him.     Continual  dropping  will  wear  a  stone. 

One  day  Suds  was  splitting  wood  in  the  back  yard, 

—  like  a  dentist  working  away  among  the  old  stumps,  — 
fretting  at  the  unrivable  tenacity  with  which  they  held 
together,  when,    sticking   his   axe   into  one  apparently 
on  the  point  of  yielding,  he  swung  it  above  his  head  to 
bring  it   down  upon  a  block,   and  thus  force  the  axe 
effectively  through  the  tough  fibres.     The  axe,  with  the 
wood  adhering,  was  raised  aloft,  —  the  blow  was  about  to 
be  struck,  but,  slipping  from  the  iron,  the  block  took 
another  direction,  and  fell  heavily  upon  the  hatless  poll 
of  the  unfortunate  barber. 

His  wife  had  seen  the  whole  proceeding  from  the 
window,  and,  rushing  out  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  the 
damage,  she  anxiously  inquired,  "  Mr.  Suds,  did  it 
hurt  you  much  ?"  To  say  that  fire  flashed  from  his 
eyes  would  be  inadequate,  —  chain-lightning  alone  could 


188  DID    IT   HURT  YOU   MUCH? 

typify  the  glance  he  gave  the  solicitous  Mrs.  S.  —  and  a 
small  thunderbolt  like  a  billet  of  wood  darted  upon  the 
wings  of  a  fierce  anathema  at  her  devoted  head.  She 
dodged  the  missile,  and  a  smashed  window  remained  a 
monument  of  his  passion. 

Poor  Suds !  he  soon  removed  from  that  locality,  and 
the  little  shop  where  he  shaved,  and  sheared,  and  suf- 
fered is  obliterated  by  the  huge  granite  piles  that  indicate 
the  progressiveness  of  commerce. 


•«  FARE.  MA'AM." 


189 


"FARE,   MA'AM." 

i  ow  do  you  do,  dear  ? '' 
said  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,  smilingly,  shaking 
hands  with  Burbank,  in 
the  Dock-square  omni- 
bus, as  he  held  out  his 
five  dexter  digits  to- 
wards her. 

' '  Fare,  ma'am ! ' '  said 
he,  in  reply  to  her  in- 
quiry. 

"Well,   I'm   shore, 
I'm    glad   of    it,    and 
how  are   the    folks   at   home  1 " 

"  Fare,  ma'am ! "  continued  he,  still  extending  his  hand. 
The  passengers  were  interested. 

"How  do  you  like  Boston?"  screamed  she,  as  the 
omnibus  rattled  over  the  stones. 

"  Fare,  ma'am  !  "  shouted  he  without  drawing  back  his 
hand ;  "I  want  you  to  pay  me  for  your  ride  !  " 

"0!"  murmured  she,  "I  thought  it  was  some  one 
that  knowed  me,"  and  rummaged  down  in  the  bottom  of 
lier  reticule  for  a  ticket,  finding  at  last  five  copper  cents 
tied  up  in  the  corner  of  her  handkerchief — the  "last 
war"  handkerchief,  with  the  stars  and  stripes  involved 
in  it,  and  the  action  of  the  Constitution  and  Guerriere 


190  PAYING    PROMPTLY. 

stamped  upon  it.  But  the  smile  she  had  given  him  at 
first  was  not  withdrawn  —  there  was  no  allowance  made 
for  mistakes  at  that  counter  —  and  he  went  out,  with  a 
lighter  heart  and  a  heavier  pocket,  to  catch  t'  other  coach. 


PAYING  PROMPTLY. 

"  IP  there  is  any  place  in  this  world  where  I  like  to 
ransack  business  more  than  another,"  said  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton,  with  animation,  untying  from  the  corner  of  her  hand- 
kerchief a  sum  of  money  she  had  just  received,  ' '  if  there 's 
any  place  better  than  another  it 's  a  bank.  There  's  no 
dillydalliance,  and  beating  down,  and  bothering  you  with 
.  a  thousand  questions,  till  you  don't  know  whether  your 
heels  are  up  or  your  head  is  down ;  all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  put  your  bill  on  the  counter,  and  they  pay  it  without 
saying  a  word." 

The  old  lady  had  presented  a  check  for  a  quarter's 
pension-money,  received  on  account  of  Paul,  who,  in  the 
"  last  war,"  served  a  fortnight  in  fortifying  Boston 
harbor,  and  got  mortar  in  his  eyes,  which  hurt  his 
"  visionary  organs  "  so  that  he  took  to  glasses. 


MEMEXTO    iiORY.  191 


"MEMENTO   MORY." 

BEFOKE  Old  Roger  left  boarding  at  No.  47,  he  for- 
feited all  regard  of  the  quiet  inmates  of  the  house  by  the 
perpetration  of  the  following  atrocity,  which  was  the 
true  reason  of  his  leaving,  and  not  the  quality  of  the 
bread-pudding,  as  many  believed.  Mory,  the  Kilby 
street  clerk,  got  married,  and  moved  off.  It  had  always 
been  a  custom  with  Mory  to  pile  his  dishes  up  in  a 
curious  manner,  after  he  had  used  them,  — cups,  saucers, 
plates,  in  a  heterogeneous  heap.  A  day  or  two  after 
his  departure  from  the  house,  Old  Roger  was  observed 
piling  his  cup  and  saucer  and  plates  in  the  same  manner, 
and  he  took  those  of  his  neighbor  to  add  to  the  pile. 
The  boarders  watched  him  silently,  in  much  surprise, 
and  one  of  them,  a  little  bolder  than  the  rest,  ventured 
to  ask  him  what  he  was  doing  that  for. 

"  0,"  said  Roger,  very  placidly,  crowning  the  pile  he 
had  made  with  the  cover  of  the  sugar-bowl,  "  I  am  only 
erecting  a  memento  Mory." 

Mr.  Blifkms,  the  serious  man,  exhorted  the  more 
volatile  boarders  on  the  impropriety  of  laughing  at  such 
an  outrageously  sacrilegious  use  of  a  respectable  dead 
language.  From  that  day  Roger  had  cold  shoulder  for 
dinner,  and  the  coldness  of  the  landlady  became  sud- 
denly manifest  in  cold  potatoes,  and  in  the  rheumatic 
condition  of  his  room  attic ;  so  he  left. 


192  MESMERISM. 


MESMERISM. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  mesmerism?  "  we  asked  of  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  dropped  alongside  of  us  yesterday 
morning,  like  a  jolly  old  seventy-four. 

"  Believe  what?  "  said  she,  sitting  down  in  the  other 
chair. 

The  question  involved  an  answer  from  us  of  some 
fifteen  minutes'  length,  running  through  the  whole  of 
mesmerism,  clairvoyance,  and  psychological  phenomena, 
like  a  knitting-needle  running  through  a  ball  of  yarn. 

"  0,  yes,"  said  she,  "  I  believe  all  of  that,  and  I  know 
a  case  in  pint,  to  prove  it.  When  Miss  Jeems  had  her 
silver-plated  spoons  extracted,  —  that  was  her  mother's 
afore  her,  and  she  sot  a  sight  by  'em,  —  she  come  away 
to  Boston  to  see  a  miserymiser,  I  b'leve  you  call  it. 
Well,  he  told  her  jest  where  her  spoons  was,  and  who 
stole  'em,  and  all  about  it,  and  the  color  of  his  hair,  and 
all  that.  Well,  she  gin  him  a  dollar,  and  when  she  got 
home  she  went  right  where  the  spoons  was,  and  could  n't 
find  a  thing  about  'em.  No,  no,  that  isn't  the  story, 
nuther;  't  is  about  Sally  Sprague  and  her  beau.  You 
see" 

At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  company  came 
in,  and  Mrs.  Partington,  pleading  an  excuse  that  she 
wanted  to  tend  one  of  the  "  adversary  meetings,"  sub- 
sided, like  a  wave  upon  the  shore. 


SLIGHT    MISTAKE.  —  CONSIDERABLY    TRUE.        193 


A   SLIGHT  MISTAKE. 

MR.  VERIGREEN,  passing  by  the  entrance  to  a  hall 
where  some  sable  minstrels  were  exhibiting,  saw  a  black 
fellow  coming  out  through  the  arch.  Mr.  V.  stopped 
and  looked  at  him  earnestly,  at  which  the  colored  gentle- 
man was  rather  indignant,  and  demanded  what  he  was 
looking  at. 

"  No  thin'  pertickler,"  said  Mr.  V.  "I  was  jest  lookin 
ter  see  what  a  plaguy  difference  there  is  betwixt  you 
now,  and  last  night,  when  you  wor  a  singin  in  there.  I 
wouldn't  a  b'leeved  it  was  the  same  individooal." 

Mr.  V.  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked  along. 


CONSIDERABLY  TRUE. 

WE  find  it  stated  in  a  paper  that  a  well-bred  woman, 
if  surprised  in  a  somewhat  careless  costume,  does  not  try 
to  dodge  behind  a  door  to  conceal  deficiencies,  nor  does 
she  turn  red  and  stammer  confused  excuses.  She 
remains  calm  and  self-possessed,  and  makes  up  in  dignity 
what  she  may  want  in  decoration.  This  is  true.  The 
most  sensible  woman  we  ever  saw  was  one  who,  when  her 
husband  took  us  home  on  a  washing  day  to  look  at  his 
new  house,  never  made  one  word  of  apology  for  the  con- 
fusion that  existed,  nor  once  begged  us  not  to  "  look 
round." 

17 


194  OLD  BULL'S  CONCERT. 


OLD  BULL'S   CONCERT. 

"OLD  Bull's  concert!  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  glanc- 
ing up  from  her  knitting  as  she  read  the  announcement 
of  the  grand  concert  on  Saturday  evening,  and  she  smiled 
as  the  ridiculous  fancy  ran  through  her  mind,  like  a  grass- 
hopper in  a  stubble  field,  of  an  old  bull  giving  a  concert. 
"  And  yet  it  isn't  so  very  wonderful,"  continued  she, 
"for  I  remember  a  cat  and  canary  that  lived  together, 
and  one  or  t'  other  of  'em  used  to  sing  beautifully.  But 
I  wonder  what  he  plays  on." 

Ike  suggested  that  he  played  on  one  of  his  own  horns, 
which  seemed  to  be  reasonable. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  going  to  give  his  concert,  because, 
when  I  went  down  to  hear  a  great  artisan  play  on  a 
violence,  as  they  called  it,  though  I  found  out  afterwards 
it  was  nothing  but  a  fiddle,  they  were  going  to  charge  a 
dollar  till  I  told  'em  I  was  one  of  the  connections  of  the 
Post,  and  they  let  me  in.  I  can't  think  what  music  an 
old  bull  can  make,  I  'm  sure.  It  must  be  very  uproari- 
ous, I  should  think,  and  better  fitted  for  overturns  than 
for  pastureal  music." 

She  closed  her  critique  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  got 
on  to  her  wires  again  like  a  telegraphic  despatch,  and 
went  ahead,  while  Ike  amused  himself  by  scratching  his 
name  with  a  board  nail  in  magnificent  Roman  capitals 
upon  the  newly-painted  panel  of  the  kitchen  door. 


ANGULAR   SAXONS.  195 


ANGULAR  SAXONS. 

"  I  DON'T  know,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  and  the  ex- 
pression, considered  as  a  mere  abstraction,  was  true,  for 
there  are  some  that  have  more  of  the  world's  wisdom 
and  a  better  knowledge  of  grammar  than  the  dame  ;  for 
the  school  for  her  teaching  was  not  one  of  letters. 
But  let  us  hear  her.  "  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  "  about 
these  Angular  Saxons  being  any  better  than  our  old- 
fashioned  ones." 

Ike  had  been  reading  to  her  an  article  upon  the  des- 
tiny of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 

"And  as  for  the  race,  Isaac,"  and  her  voice  fell  to  a 
pitch  of  deep  solemnity  as  she  spoke,  "  it  is  n't  proper  at 
all ;  for  when  a  funeral  goes  too  quick  —  to  say  nothing 
about  racing  —  it  always  is  a  forerunner,  sometimes, 
that  somebody  '11  die  before  the  year  's  out.  The  old 
saxons  were  full  fast  enough,  naturally ;  and  arter  the 
parish  gin  our  saxon  the  surfeit  of  plate  for  his  officious 
services,  it  spruced  him  right  up,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it 
would  have  pleased  him  to  bury  all  of  'em,  he  was  so 
grateful.  No,  no,  we  don't  want  any  Angular  Saxons, 
Isaac,  when  our  own  are  full  good  enough." 

Ike,  as  she  was  talking,  had  amused  himself  with 
tying  the  old  lady's  snuff-box  in  the  corner  of  his  hand- 
kerchief and  was  experimentally  swinging  it  around  his 
head  ;  and  she  ceased  just  as  the  box,  released  from  the 
knot,  dashed  against  the  opposite  side,  scattering  the 


196  WATER  GAS. 

pungent  powder  in  plenteous  profusion  upon  the  sanded 
floor.  Of  course  he  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  and  that  was 
all  that  saved  him. 


WATER  GAS. 

"  WELL,  that  is  a  discovery  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  smilingly ;  and  she  stood  with  a  small  pitcher  in 
her  right  hand,  her  left  resting  upon  the  table,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  flame  of  a  glass  lamp,  that  sputtered 
a  moment  and  then  shot  out  a  light  that  irradiated  every 
part  of  the  little  kitchen,  and  revealed  the  portrait  of 
Paul  upon  the  wall,  and  Ike  asleep  by  the  fire.  She 
spoke  to  herself ;  it  was  a  way  she  had ;  she  met  with 
no  contradiction  from  that  quarter.  "  This  is  a  discov- 
ery !  Where  is  Tom  Paine  and  his  gas  now,  I  should  like 
to  know?  Here  I  've  been  and  filled  this  lamp  up  with 
water,  and  it  burns  just  as  well  as  the  real  ile." 

The  experiment  was  perfectly  triumphant ;  the  prob- 
lem of  light  from  water  was  demonstrated ;  and  yet, 
with  this  vast  fact  revealed  to  her,  Mrs.  Partington,  with 
a  modesty  equal  to  that  of  the  great  philosopher  who 
picked  up  a  pocket-ful  of  rocks  on  the  shore  of  the 
great  ocean  of  truth,  smiled  with  delight  at  her  discovery, 
nor  once  thought  of  getting  out  a  patent  or  selling 
rights. 


MRS.    PARTINGTON   AT  THE    OPERA.  197 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AT  THE  OPERA. 

WE  were  surprised,  at  the  opera,  last  evening,  by 
having  a  hand  placed  upon  our  shoulder.  It  was  a 
gentle  touch  ;  altogether  unlike  certain  other  touches  on 
the  shoulder  that  delinquent  men  so  much  dread.  It 
came  at  a  time  when  we  were  all  absorbed  by  the  melody 
of  the  charming  Sontag,  and  were  provoked  at  the  in- 
trusion. 

"Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  lend  me  your  observ- 
atory? "  asked  a  voice  that  we  thought  we  remembered. 

Looking  round,  "Great  heavens !"  we  cried,  "Mrs. 
Partington!  " 

It  was,  indeed,  that  estimable  dame,  but  yet  it  was 
not ;  for  the  black  bonnet  had  disappeared,  and  a  new 
rigolette  adorned  her  venerable  poll,  beneath  which  every 
sprig  of  wavy  gray  was  securely  tucked.  But  the  smile 
was  there,  as  warm  as  a  June  morning  at  nine  o'clock. 
She  repeated  the  request  to  use  the  pearl  and  diamond- 
studded  opera-glass,  that  we  had  hired  at  Fetridge's  for 
twenty-five  cents,  — denominating  it  an  "observatory." 

"  Is  this  the  right  poeus  1 "  said  she ;  "  I  s'pose  I  shall 
have  to  digest  it  to  my  sight,  for  my  poor  visionary  orgies 
are  giving  out." 

She  levelled  both  barrels  at  the  singers  at  once,  and 
brought  them  down  to  her,  and  Pozzolini  directed  three 
successive  appeals  to  her  tenderness. 

"Ita'n't  no  use,"  said  she,  as  she  handed  the  glass; 
17* 


198  A    SLIGHT   MISAPPREHENSION. 

"  I  can't  understand  better  with  that, — I  should  have 
bought  one  of  the  lab'ratories  at  the  door." 

She  beat  time  gracefully  to  the  music  for  a  while  upon 
the  cover  of  her  snuff-box,  and  then  went  out,  like  an 
exhausted  candle,  to  try  and  light  on  Ike,  who  was 
trading  for  a  jacknife  with  another  boy  on  the  gallery 
stairs. 


A  SLIGHT  MISAPPREHENSION. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON  was  at  Thackeray's  last  lecture,  - 
Mr.  T.  had  kindly  sent  her  a  card,  admitting  one,  —  and, 
forgetting  the  theme  of  the  lecture,  she  leaned  over  the 
seat  and  asked  the  gentleman  before  her  what  the  subject 
was. 

"  Goldsmith  and  Sterne,  mem,"  was  the  reply ;  "  but 
he  is  on  Sterne,  first." 

Mrs.  Partington  blushed.  There  was  evidently  a 
question  agitating  her  mind  as  to  whether  she  should 
tarry  and  hear  a  lecture  from  a  person  so  ridiculously 
postured  as  Mr.  T.  must  appear.  She  looked  around, 
meditating  a  retreat;  but  the  avenue  to  escape  was  blocked 
up,  and  she  thought  she  might  as  well  stay  it  out. 
She  watched  tremblingly  for  Mr.  Thackeray,  and  was 
much  relieved  by  seeing  him  standing  perpendicularly 
before  her.  She  thought  she  must  have  mistaken  the 
meaning  of  her  informant. 


APOLLYON  BONYPART.  199 


APOLLYON  BONYPART. 

"  WHEN  will  the  world  get  rid  of  this  Apollyon  Bony- 
part?"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  Ike  threw  down  the 
paper  in  which  he  had  read  a  comparison  between  the 
"  18th  Brumaire"  and  the  "  coup  d'etat."  In  the  un- 
certain glimmerings  of  her  memory,  she  confounded  the 
nephew  and  uncle,  and  her  thought  took  the  course  the 
dim  reminiscence  pointed. 

"  Apollyon  Bonypart !  I  remember  all  about  him, 
and  his  eighteenth  blue  mare  too.  I  always  wondered 
where  he  got  so  many  of  'em,  —  something  like  the 
woolly  horse,  I  guess,  —  and  when  he  was  transplanted 
to  Saint  Domingo,  Isaac,  folks  went  up  to  the  King's 
Chapel  to  sing  tedium  about  it,  because  they  were  glad 
of  it.  And  now  he  's  come  back  agin,  with  all  his  blue 
mares  with  him." 

The  dropping  of  a  stitch  brought  her  down  from  the 
new  hobby  she  was  riding  so  furiously,  and  Ike  drew  a 
picture  of  a  blue  mare,  in  chalk,  upon  the  newly- washed 
kitchen  floor. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  says  she  don't  see  why  people 
want  to  be  always  struggling  for  wealth ;  for  her  part, 
she  affirms  that  all  she  wants  is  food  and  raiment  and 
clothes  to  wear  to  meeting. 


200 


PAUL   AND   POLITICS. 


PAUL   AND   POLITICS. 

>AS  Paul  inclined  to  poli- 
tics?" we  asked  of  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  we  saw  the 
old  dame  reading  a  ' '  grand 
rally"  hand-bill  at  the 
corner  of  the  grocery  store. 
She  asked  us  to  wait  a 
moment  till  she  '-digested" 
her  specs.  ' '  Inclined  to 
politics  !  "  said  she,  and 
v  her  eyes  rested  upon  the 
period  at  the  end  of  the 
last  line,  till  she  seemed 
"  He  was;  but  he  was  n't  a 
propergander,  nor  an  oilygarchist,  or  an  avaritionist,  nor 
a  demigod,  as  some  of  'em  are ;  all  he  wanted  was  an  exer- 
cise of  his  sufferings  and  the  use  of  his  elective  French 
eyes,  as  he  used  to  say.  Ah,  Heaven  rest  him !  "  ex- 
claimed she,  as  her  eyes  rose  from  the  period  at  the  bottom 
of  the  bill  and  rested  on  the  top  of  the  fence.  "  But  did 
he  never  get  an  office,  Mrs.  P.?"  we  asked.  "Yes, 
replied  she,  and  we  fancied  the  tone  of  her  voice  had  an 
expression  of  triumph  in  it  —  enough  to  be  perceptible, 
like  three  drops  of  paregoric  in  a  teaspoonful  of  water  — 
"  yes,  he  was  put  one  year  for  a  hogreefer,  and  got 
neglected."  As  we  were  about  asking  her  opinion  of  the 


to  be  meditating  a  full  stop. 


A    PREDICTION.  201 

new  constitution,  Ike  came  along  whistling  "Jordan" 
and  swinging  a  pint  of  milk,  in  a  tin  pail,  around  hia 
head,  and  the  old  lady  forgot  her  politics  in  her  solicitude 
about  Ike's  soiling  his  new  cap. 


A  PREDICTION. 

IKE  caine  running  in  one  day  during  the  sleighing 
season,  with,  "  0,  aunt,  I  just  now  saw  a  little  boy  fall 
right  down  under  a  sleigh  in  Washington-street !  " 

"Dear  me!"  she  screamed,  horror-struck;  "bless 
my  soul !  did  it  hurt  him  much  ?  did  it  kill  him  instant- 

Ijr?" 

"  0,  no,  aunt !  "  replied  he ;  "it  did  n't  hurt  him  at 
all,  for  the  sleigh  had  n't  any  horse  in  it." 

His  face  beamed  with  fun. 

"  Ah,  you  disgraceless  boy!  "  cried  the  old  lady,  with 
her  finger  raised,  at  the  same  time  with  her  apron  wiping 
away  the  mists  that  the  momentary  sympathy  had  gath- 
ered in  her  eyes  ;  "ah,  you  disgraceless  boy !  you  won't 
die  in  your  bed  if  you  tell  such  stories  !  " 

There  never  was  a  kinder  creature  than  she ;  and,  as 
she  looked  on  his  good-natured  face  and  sparkling  eyes, 
she  patted  his  head  and  gave  him  an  apple. 


202  THE   DESSERT.  —  BOSTON   MUSIC   HALL. 


THE   DESSERT. 

"DESERT,  did  you  say1?"  growled  old  Roger,  at  a 
festival  supper  some  time  ago,  to  a  person  who  sat  oppo- 
site him  at  the  table,  who  had  called  for  the  dessert ; 
"  come  over  this  side,  my  friend,  and  you  '11  have  no 
occasion  to  call  for  it.  It 's  quite  a  desert,  and  almost 
a  perfect  famine  here  already,  and  has  been  so  all  the 
evening.  Don't  look  at  that  turkey  —  that  is  nothing— 
that  is  only  a  promise  made  to  the  hope  and  broken  to 
the  stomach ;  for  human  strength  cannot  divide  its  mem- 
bers—  they  are  unanimously  tough."  And  the  little 
man  recommenced  ogling  a  ham  that  was  rapidly  disap- 
pearing in  the  dim  distance,  and  mumbled  cheese  crumbs 
to  allay  the  cravings  of  unsatisfied  appetite. 


BOSTON   MUSIC   HALL. 

WHEN  Mrs.  Partington  first  visited  the  new  Music 
Hall,  she  looked  at  the  structure  with  great  admiration. 
It  was  in  the  day-time,  and  the  gas  burners  over  the 
edge  of  the  cornice  met  her  eye.  Turning  to  Mrs.  Bat- 
tlegash,  who  sat  next  to  her,  she  remarked  that  every- 
thing seemed  excellent  "except  the  out-of-the-way  place 
where  they  driv  the  nails  for  the  ostriches  to  hang  their 
coats  on,"  and  pointed  to  the  ceiling,  saying  she  didn't 
believe  they  could  ever  reach  them. 


TROUSSEAU    OF   PRINCESS   WASA.  203 


TROUSSEAU  OF  PRINCESS  WASA. 

IKE  read,  "At  Paris,  the  dressmakers,  jewellers, 
and  milliners  have  all  been  occupied  in  furnishing  the 
trousseau  of  the  Princess  Wasa." 

"  Stop,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  raising  her 
finger,  and  glancing  at  him  over  the  top  of  her  specta- 
cles j  "is  that  so?  " 

He  assured  her  that  it  was. 

"  Well,"  continued  she,  and  a  blush  of  offended  mod- 
esty crossed  her  features,  like  the  sun-flush  on  the  newly 
reddened  barn-door;  "that  maybe  the  way  they  do 
things  in  Paris,  but  it  is  n't  modest  to  begin  with.  A 
woman  has  no  right  to  wear  'em.  'T  is  agin  natur  and 
decency.  And  what  does  she  want  so  many  of  'em  for? 
She  can't  wear  but  one  pah*  to  a  time,  and  here  she  hag 
got  all  of  the  dressmakers  making  trousers  for  her,  as  if 
she  was  going  to  live  long  enough  to  wear  'em  out.  Ah, 
women  a'n't  what  they  were  once  !  " 

She  rose  suddenly  as  she  spoke,  and  Ike,  who  was 
upon  the  back  of  her  chair,  endeavoring  to  tie  a  string 
to  a  nail  in  the  big  beam  that  traversed  the  ceiling,  was 
thrown  violently  against  the  table,  breaking  three  plates 
and  a  teacup  in  his  descent. 


204  STOCK   OF   THE   REVOLUTION. 


STOCK  OF   THE   REVOLUTION. 

• 

"  WE  have  little  left  of  the  revolutionary  stock,  now," 
said  the  schoolmaster,  as  he  seated  himself  in  Mrs.  Part- 
ington's  back-room,  and  wiped  his  brow.  There  was  a 
meaning  in  her  spectacles,  as  they  glanced  upon  him, 
responsive  to  his  remark,  but  she  said  net  a  word.  Draw- 
ing a  chair  towards  her,  she  smilingly  stepped  upon  it, 
and,  standing  on  tiptoe,  reached  away  back  into  a  closet 
in  which  were  kept  the  remnants  of  past  service, — bottles 
and  paper  bags,  and  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  odds  and 
ends  that  would  have  made  the  fortune  of  a  showman,  — 
the  blue  stockings  revealing  themselves  as  she  prosecuted 
her  search;  but  the  schoolmaster  didn't  see  them  — 
not  he. 

"  Revolutionary  stock  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  and 
her  voice  seemed  choked  by  the  dust  raised  in  the  old 
cupboard,  "here's  one  of  'em!"  and  she  reached  out, 
with  a  present-arms  motion,  an  old  musket-stock.  ' '  Here 
is  a  relict  of  the  revolution  that  has  survived  the  time 
that  tired  men's  souls ;  and,  poor  souls  !  I  should  think 
they  would  have  been  tired  to  death  with  the  smell  of 
the  powder  and  balls.  I  keep  this  up  here  away  from 
Isaac,  for  fear  he  should  do  some  mischief  with  it,  for  I 
don't  want  him  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  fire-arms. 
Is  n't  it  a  relict  1 " 

Bless  thee,  Mrs.  Partington !  and  thou  art  a  relicfc, 
thyself,  more  to  be  prized  than  stacks  of  arms ;  and,  did 


m^ 


S  T  O  <     K       O  F      T  II   F.       R  E  V  O  I,  IT  T  I   O  N. 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   COUNTRY   HEALTH.  205 

thy  warm  spirit  pervade  the  land,  war  would  be  no  longer 
the  scourge  of  the  nations,  and  men  would  not  know 
fighting  any  more. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  COUNTRY  HEALTH'. 

"  PEOPLE  may  say  Avhat  they  will  about  country  air 
being  so  good  for  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  "  and  how 
they  fat  up  on  it ;  for  my  part,  I  shall  always  think  it  is 
owin'  to  the  vittles.  Air  may  do  for  camamiles  and 
other  reptiles  that  live  on  it,  but  I  know  that  men  must 
have  something  substanialler." 

The  old  lady  was  resolute  in  this  opinion,  conflict  as 
it  might  with  general  notions.  She  is  set  in  her  opin- 
ions, very,  and  in  their  expression  nowise  backward. 

"  It  may  be  as  Solomon  says,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  lived 
at  the  pasturage  in  a  country  town  all  one  summer,  and 
I  never  heerd  a  turtle  singing  in  the  branches.  I  say  1 
never  heerd  it ;  but  it  may  be  so,  too,  for  I  have  seen 
'em  in  brooks  under  the  tree,  where  they  perhaps  dropped 
off.  I  wish  some  of  our  great  naturals  would  look  into 
it." 

With  this  wish  for  light,  the  old  lady  lighted  her  candle 
and  went  to  bed. 

18 


206  THE   PROMENADE. 


THE  PROMENADE. 

WE  sat  directly  in  front  of  Mrs.  Partington  at  Jullien's 
concert,  one  night,  and  were  pleased  to  witness  the  marked 
attention  that  she  paid  to  the  performance.  The  first 
part  had  been  concluded,  and  the  ' '  fifteen  minutes'  inter- 
mission for  promenade,"  announced  on  the  bill,  had  been 
well  spent,  when  we  felt  a  finger  laid  upon  the  arm  that 
rested  upon  the  back  of  the  next  seat,  and  a  whispered 
voice  was  breathed  into  our  sinister  ear  : 

"  When  is  he  going  to  carry  it  round  1 " 

We  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  and  she  looked  inquir- 
ingly back  again. 

"  Carry  it  round  7" 

"  Yes,"  replied  she,  "  the  promenade  here.  'T  is  the 
refreshment  part  of  the  entertainment,  is  n't  it?  " 

We  explained  to  her  the  meaning  of  the  word  ' '  prom- 
enade," and,  with  a  long  drawn  "  0!  "  like  an  extended 
cipher,  she  sank  back  into  her  seat.  Ike  was  blowing 
peas  at  a  gentleman's  boot  projecting  through  the  lattice 
work  of  the  gallery. 


MRS.    PARTINGTON   IN   THE    CROWD.  207 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  IN  THE  CROWD. 

"  DON'T  go  anigh  it,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
with  nervous  anxiety,  on  the  day  of  the  great  railroad 
jubilee  procession,  as  the  carriage,  bearing  the  big  gun, 
came  by  where  she  and  Ike  "were  standing.  She  had 
been  very  nervous  all  the  morning,  and  had  made  some 
curious  mistakes.  When  the  procession  first  came  along, 
she  waved  her  handkerchief  at  an  alderman,  taking 
him  to  be  the  president ;  and  Marshal  Tukey  she  thought 
was  Lord  Elgin. 

"  Don't  go  anigh  it,  — it 's  one  of  the  pesky  Paxon 
guns  we  read  of;  they  call  'em  peace- makers  because 
they  tear  people  all  to  pieces ;  and,  depend  upon  it, 
Isaac,  if  a  man  got  hit  once  or  twice  with  such  a  gun  as 
that,  my  idea  is,  that  there  would  n't  be  much  left  of  him. 
0,  the  wickedness  of  men,  that  they  should  learn  war, 
and  kill  people,  and  spoil  good  clothes,  and  act  more  like 
Kottenpots  or  salvages  than  they  do  like  men  !  They 
jay  this  Mr.^Paxton  has  got  up  a  Christian  Parish  in 
London,  and  everybody  is  going  to  see  it.  Well,  I  hope 
he  will  tend  it  himself,  and  get  good,  and  repent  of  the 
evil  he  has  done.  But,  I  'm  sure,  I  hope  he  won't  have 
any  such  machines  as  that,  ever,  to  help  his  preach- 

tag." 

The  noise  of  the  passing  crowd  drowned  half  her 
remarks,  and,  at  that  moment,  a  marshal  backed  his 
horse  near  where  she  and  Ike  stood,  with  a  command  to 


208  A    CEREOUS   MATTER. 

her  to  "  stand  back."  It  was  astonishing  how  the  flies/ 
or  something,  troubled  that  marshal's  horse  all  the  while 
he  stood  there. 


A   CEREOUS   MATTER. 

"  THERE  was  a  cererous  accident  happened  down  here, 
just  now,  aunt,"  said  Ike,  running  in  hastily. 

"Dear  me!"  cried  Mrs.  Partington,  dropping  her 
knitting-work,  and  starting  from  her  seat  in  great  alarm ; 
"what  upon  airth  was  it,  Isaac?  Was  anybody  killed, 
or  had  their  legs  and  limbs  broke,  or  what?  " 

"0,"  replied  he,  giving  his  top  a  tremendous  twirl, 
that  sent  it  round  among  the  chairs  at  a  great  rate ;  "  0, 
no  !  't  was  only  a  man  capsized  a  box  of  candles,  that  'a 
all." 

The  old  lady  looked  at  Isaac  reproachfully.  He  will 
break  her  heart  one  of  these  days.  Her  mind,  at  the 
first  alarm,  had  flown  among  her  balsams,  and  bandages, 
and  lints,  that  had  lain  in  obscurity  since  the  poor  boy 
next  door  had  cut  his  toe  off;  and  to  be  thus  lowered 
down  from  her  hope  of  usefulness  was  too  bad.  B  at  Ike 
went  out  with  his  top,  laughing  all  the  while,  a.'d  the 
old  lady  subsided  into  the  old  arm-chair,  and  we^t  on 
with  her  knitting. 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  REMEDIES  CONTRASTED.    209 


ANCIENT  AND   MODERN   REMEDIES 
CONTRASTED. 

"  THEY  don't  doctor  folks  now  as  my  physician  learnt 
mer"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  sagely  tapping  her  snuff-box 
by  the  couch  of  a  friend  lying  indisposed.  Her  gesture 
was  very  expressive,  and  the  profundity  of  a  whole  Med. 
Fac.  beamed  from  her  spectacles.  She  took  a  pinch  of 
Farwell's  subtle  Maccaboy  in  her  fingers,  and  shut  the 
box,  and  laid  it  away  in  her  capacious  pocket,  then,  with 
her  closed  forefinger  and  thumb  raised,  went  on  with  her 
remarks,  —  "  They  don't  subscribe  for  folks  now  as  they 
used  to.  My  doctor  used  to  tell  me,  — and  he  never 
lost  any  of  his  patience  but  once,  and  that  was  an  old 
man  of  ninety-seven,  whose  days  were  shortened  because 
he  had  n't  strength  to  swallow,  —  he  used  to  tell  me,  — 
and  I  've  been  with  him  thousands  of  times  with  sick 
folks,  —  he  used  to  tell  me,  first,  said  he,  give  'em 
apecac,  to  clear  the  stomach ;  then  give  'em  purgatory 
to  clear  the  bowels ;  then  put  a  blister  on  the  neck  if 
the  head  aches  ;  and  have  'em  blooded  if  there  is  a  ten- 
derness of  the  blood  to  the  head ;  and  put  hot  poultices 
on  to  the  feet,  arter  soaking  'em  in  hot  water.  There 
wan't  none  of  your  Homerpathics,  nor  Hydrapathics,  nor 
no  other  pathics  then,  and  what  was  done  might  be  sure 
it  would  either  kill  or  cure  !  " 

She  inhaled  the  dust  with  great  unction,  and  the 
patient,  who  lay  making  squares  and  diamonds  out  of  the 
18* 


210  MR.    SLOW   IN   THE   MOON. 

roses  on  the  room-paper,  "  thanked  God  and  took  cour- 
age," as  heartily  as  St.  Paul  did  when  he  saw  the  three 
taverns,  that  he  had  fallen  upon  times  of  more  physical 
mildness. 


MR.   SLOW  IN  THE   MOON. 

MR.  SLOW  and  Abimelech  were  out  looking  upon  the 
moon,  as  it  gleamed  above  them  in  the  sky.  The  moon, 
as  they  gazed,  passed  behind  a  dark  cloud,  the  edge  of 
which  gleamed  like  silver. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  said  Abimelech. 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Slow,  solemnly,  "  that 
'ere  's  well  got  up.  Some  people  say  they  have  brighter 
moons  in  other  places  than  our'n,  but  I  say  that 's  all 
moonshine.  Look  at  it,  'Bimelech,  as  it  hangs  up  there 
now,  as  bright  as  a  dollar,  and  don't  you  believe  any  of 
the  gammoning  stories  about  its  being  a  green  cheese." 

"  But,  father,"  asked  Abimelech,  his  son,  "isn't  the 
story  true  about  the  man  in  the  moon?  " 

"Certingly,  my  son,  certingly,"  said  Mr.  Slow,  look- 
ing down  at  him ;  "  that 's  all  true,  that  is,  'caiw  it 's  in 
the  primer." 

Abimelech  was  satisfied  —  so  was  Mr.  Slow. 


MY   LITTLE   BOY. 


211 


MY   LITTLE   BOY. 

E REAPS  he  is  in  no  wise  differ- 
ent from  everybody's  little  boy 
—  I  dare  say  he  is  no  taller, 
or  thicker,  or  heavier,  than  ten 
thousand  other  boys  who  have 
had  existence,  and  been  the 
idol  of  doting  papas,  and  mam- 
mas, and  maiden  aunts.  He 
is  not  an  original  boy  in  a 
single  particular — •!  don't 
claim  him  as  such ;  he  eats 
very  much  the  same  way,  and 
very  much  the  same  food,  as 

other  young  gentlemen  of  his  age — sleeps  the  same,  cries 
the  same,  and  makes  up  the  same  outrageous  faces  at 
castor-oil.  I  don't  care  if  he  is  n't  different.  But  every 
parent  has  a  right,  in  fact  he  is  bound,  to  think  his  boy 
better  than  everybody's  boy,  by  a  law  of  nature  that  knows 
no  contravening  —  will  admit  of  none.  If  everybody 
sees  in  the  picture  I  draw  of  my  boy  a  sketch  of  his  own, 
let  him  remember  it  is  my  boy  still,  and  not  flatter  him- 
self that  he  has  a  prodigy  that  knows  no  equal. 

My  boy  has  the  glory  of  more  than  a  year  of  months 
to  brag  of,  three  of  which  he  has  devoted  to  taking  his 
steps  in  the  initiatory  of  locomotion,  and  excels  in  little 


212  MY    LITTLE    BOY. 

manoeuvres  in  engineering,  of  his  own  adoption,  steering 
warily  among  chairs  and  tables  ;  and,  though  frequently 
broaching  to  and  foundering  under  a  press  of  eagerness  in 
circumnavigating  the  kitchen,  he  invariably  comes  up  all 
right,  and  forgets  minor  adversities  in  the  grand  triumph. 

My  boy  is  a  living  proof  of  the  great  truth  of  gravita- 
tion, as,  when  unlucky  circumstance  kicks  him  out  of 
bed  or  throws  him  from  a  chair,  he  invariably  strikes  the 
floor ;  and  my  boy  has  had  knocks  enough  on  his  head  to 
realize  a  faith  with  regard  to  his  profundity  equal  to 
that  of  Captain  Cuttle  in  the  renowned  Bunsby,  for  the 
.  same  reason. 

My  boy  understands  the  moral  of  a  whip.  Thus 
young,  will  he  wield  the  rod  in  terror  over  the  back  of 
shrinking  sisterhood,  nor  even  spare  maternity  in  his 
"experimental  philosophy." 

My  boy  knows  very  well  how  to  manage  it  when  the 
slop-pail  is  within  reach,  and  nothing  pleases  him  more 
than  a  plentiful  ablution  in  soap-suds  or  greasy  dish- 
water. 

My  boy  delights  in  experimenting  in  hydraulics,  — 
now  essaying  to  administer  hydropathy  by  the  dipper- 
full  to  a  healthy  floor,  now  sousing  stockings  into  the 
water-bucket,  and  now  putting  the  hair-brush  into  the 
sink. 

My  boy  fills  his  father's  boots  with  incongruities  that 
do  not  belong  there,  and  looks  on  gravely  as  the  load  is 
shaken  out,  wondering,  apparently,  why  his  father  don't 
let  it  stay. 

My  boy  watches  his  chance  to  pull  a  dish,  or  a  cup, 
or  a  saucer,  —  no  matter  which,  —  from  the  table  ;  he 


MY    LITTLE    BOY.  213 

seems  to  have  an  antipathy  against  crockery,  and  vivid 
visions  of  sundered  pairs  remind  his  father  daily  of  the 
havoc  he  has  made  in  the  once  respectable  "service,"  — 
here  a  white  and  there  a  blue,  some  cracked,  noseless, 
handleless,  stare  him  in  the  face. 

My  boy  despises  all  conventional  rules,  and  unheeds 
the  suasion  that  would  limit  will :  republicanism  speaks 
through  every  act,  independence  in  every  look,  free- 
dom in  every  motion. 

My  boy  is  very  decidedly  partial  to  an  ash-hole ;  it  is 
a  spot  by  him  of  all  others  to  be  craved ;  he  glories  in 
an  ash-hole;  thereward  his  inclination  ever  points. 
David  of  old,  in  his  utmost  woe,  couldn't  have  gone 
deeper  into  the  ashes.  A  stove-pan  is  a  good  substitute 
for  the  ash-hole  ;  there  is  a  luxury  in  strewing  the  gritty 
dust  about  a  clean  carpet,  that  is  not  to  be  overlooked, 
and  never  is ;  there  is  fun  in  hearing  it  crunch  beneath 
the  feet  of  his  mother,  and  fun,  too,  in  filling  his  mouth 
with  the  fragments.  I  have  thought,  from  my  boy's 
predisposition  to  pick  up  gravel,  that  he  required  it  to 
aid  digestion. 

My  boy  rejoices  in  a  dirty  face.  No  Mohawk  chief, 
in  the  pride  of  war-paint,  could  feel  more  magnificent 
than  my  boy  under  an  application  of  molasses,  —  or  any- 
thing, —  he  is  not  particular ;  and  no  Mohawk  would 
fight  harder  to  prevent  its  being  wiped  off. 

My  boy  takes  to  sugar  very  readily ;  he  was  very 
quick  in  taking  to  this ;  it  seemed  instinctive  with  him. 
I  have  heard  of  people's  having  a  sweet  tooth,  but  I 
verily  believe  the  whole  of  my  boy's  —  he  has  but  four 
—  are  all  sweet. 


214  MY    LITTLE    BOY. 

My  boy  is  all-exacting  in  his  demands,  —  demands 
sure  enough,  as  imperious  as  those  of  a  prince ;  and  his 
brow  frowns,  and  his  little  voice  rings  again,  if  his  de- 
mands are  not  complied  with,  —  principally  confined, 
however,  to  the  matter  of  victuals. 

My  boy  is  everything  that  is  affectionate ;  a  laugh  and 
kiss  his  morning  and  even  sacrifice,  and  his  bright  black 
eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  glowing  in  the  sunlight  of  a  happy 
heart.  His  voice  greets  me  as  I  come  from  labor,  and 
his  arms  encircle  my  neck  in  a  sweet  embrace,  and  his 
cheek  reposes  against  mine  in  the  fulness  of  childish 
love,  and  then  I  feel  that  my  little  boy  is  better  than 
everybody's,  and  I  can't  be  made  to  begin  to  believe  at 
such  times  but  that  everybody  must  think  so.  In  short, 
as  Mr.  Micawber  might  say,  my  boy  is  a  trump  card  in 
my  domestic  pack. 


MY   LITTLE   BOY. 


215 


MY  LITTLE   BOY. 

HAT  "  Little  Boy,"  of  whom  it 
was  our  delight  and  pride  to 
speak,  is  no  more.  His  sweet 
spirit  has  fled  from  the  earth, 
and  left  an  aching  void  in  our 
heart,  and  an  anguish  which 
will  be  hard  to  allay.  The 
music  of  his  voice  is  stilled ; 
the  mild  beaming  of  his  eyes  is 
quenched  in  the  darkness  of 
death;  his  arms  are  no  more 
outstretched  upon  loving  im- 
pulses, nor  his  step  speedy  in 

affection's  errands;  the  happiness  of  his  smile  will  no 
more  impart  its  blest  contagion  to  our  own  spirit,  nor 
the  home  places  be  made  again  pleasant  by  his  bright 
presence. 

We  were  loth  that  he  should  depart.  There  were  a 
thousand  ties  that  bound  him  to  us.  We  could  not  con- 
ceive that  a  flower,  so  fair  and  full  of  promise,  should 
wither  and  die  while  within  our  grasp.  We  fancied  that 
we  could  hedge  him  round  with  our  love,  and  that  the 
grim  archer  could  not  find  access  to  our  fold  through  the 
diligence  of  our  watchfulness.  We  had  forgotten  that 
the  brightest  and  fairest  are  oftenest  the  victims  of  inex- 


216  MY   LITTLE   BOY. 

orable  Death,  and  that  the  roseate  robes  of  to-day's  joy 
may  be  usurped  to-morrow  by  the  sable  drapery  of  afflic- 
tion. 

There  was  much  to  endear  him  to  us.  Perhaps  no 
more,  however,  than  every  child  possesses  to  a  parent. 
He  was  precocious  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  his 
little  life  was  full  of  childish  manliness  that  made  every- 
body love  him  who  looked  upon  him.  His  kiss  is  still 
warm  upon  our  cheek,  and  his  smile  still  bright  in  our 
memory,  replete  with  love  and  trust.  We  were  sanguine 
of  a  fruitful  future  for  him,  and  we  had  associated  him 
with  many  schemes  of  happy  usefulness  in  coming  life, 
and  with  foolish  pride  boasted  of  indications  that  promised 
all  we  hoped.  Alas  !  how  dark  it  seems  now,  .as  we 
recall  the  dear  little  fellow  in  his  dreamless  rest.  He 
was  smiling  as  we  laid  him  beneath  the  coffin-lid,  as  if 
the  spirit  in  parting  had  stamped  its  triumph,  on  the  coW 
lips,  over  the  dominion  of  Death. 

That  "  Little  Boy"  was  our  idol,  and  there  were  those 
—  well-meaning  people  too  —  who  would  expostulate, 
and  shake  their  heads  gravely,  and  say  that  we  loved  him 
too  much  ;  as  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  where  a 
being  of  such  qualities  was  making  constant  drafts  upon 
our  affection.  It  is  our  greatest  consolation  that  we 
loved  him  so  well,  —  that  there  was  no  stint  or  limit  to 
the  love  we  felt  for  him,  —  that  his  happiness  and  our 
own  were  so  promoted  by  that  affection,  that  it  was  almost 
like  the  pangs  of  death  to  relinquish  him  to  the  grave. 

It  seems  almost  a  sin  to  weep  over  the  young  and 
beautiful  dead ;  but  it  must  be  a  colder  philosophy  than 
ours  to  repress  tears  when  bending  over  the  lifeless  form 


MY  LITTLE   BOY.  217 

of  a  dear  child.  We  may  know  that  the  pains  of  earth 
are  exchanged  for  the  joys  of  heaven ;  we  may  admit  the 
selfishness  of  our  woe,  that  would  interpose  itself  between 
the  dead  and  their  happiness ;  we  may  listen  to  and  allow 
the  truth  of  gospel  solaces,  and  cling  to  the  hope  of  a 
happy  and  endless  meeting  in  regions  beyond  the  grave ; 
hut  what  can  fill  the  void  which  their  dreary  absence 
makes  in  the  circle  which  they  blessed,  where  every 
association  tends  to  recall  them? 

Thus  it  seems  when  the  heart  is  first  bereft,  when  the 
sorrow  is  new,  and  we  sit  down  in  our  lone  chamber  to 
think  of  it  and  brood  over  it.  But  we  know  that  afflic- 
tion must  become  softened  by  time,  or  it  would  be 
unbearable.  And  there  are  many  reflections  that  the 
mind  draws  from  its  own  stores  to  yield  after-comfort. 
Memory  forgets  nothing  of  the  departed  but  the  woe  of 
separation,  and  every  association  connected  with  them 
becomes  pleasant  and  joyous.  We  see  them,  "  with  their 
angel  plumage  on;"  we  feel  them  around  us  upon  view- 
less wings,  filling  our  minds  with  good  influences  and 
blessed  recollections ;  freed  from  the  sorrows  and  tempta- 
tions and  sins  of  earth,  and,  with  a  holier  love,  they  are 
still  ministering  to  us. 

It  is  one  of  the  immunities  of  grief  that  it  pour  itself 
out  unchecked ;  and  everybody  who  has  a  little  boy  like 
this  we  have  lost  will  readily  excuse  this  fond  and  mourn- 
ful prolixity  —  this  justifiable  lamentation.  But 

"  We  shall  all  go  home  to  our  Father's  house  — 

To  our  Father's  house  in  the  skies, 
Where  the  hope  of  our  souls  shall  have  no  blight, 
Our  lov«  no  broken  ties  : 

19 


218  MY  LITTLE   BOY. 

We  shall  roam  on  the  banks  of  the  River  of  Peace, 

And  bathe  in  its  blissful  tide  ; 
And  one  of  the  joys  of  our  heaven  shall  be  — 

The  little  boy  that  died." 


'  To  talk  of  a  man  worth  his  millions  giving  a  few 
thousands  of  dollars  in  charity,  is  well  enough,"  said 
old  Roger  ;  "he  should  be  praised  for  it;  but  what  is 
his  act  compared  with  that  of  the  poor  woman  who  buys 
a  pint  of  oil  from  her  own  hard  earnings,  and  carries  it 
in  a  broken-necked  bottle  to  a  sick  neighbor,  poorer  than 
herself,  to  cheer  the  gloomy  hours  of  the  night?  What 
is  his  act  compared  with  hers,  I  should  like  to  know  "? 


And  he  snapped  his  fingers,  and  felt  sustained  in  his 
high  estimate  of  the  poor  woman's  small  donation. 


ON    REMEDIES. — A    NEW    INSTRUMENT.  219 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   ON   REMEDIES. 

"  THIS  is  an  age  of  enervation  in  medicine,  sure 
enough  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  glanced  at  the 
column  of  new  and  remarkable  specifics ;  "  why  -will 
people  run  after  metaphysics  and  them  nostrums,  when, 
by  taking  some  simple  purgatory,  they  can  get  well  so 
soon  1  It 's  all  nonsense,  it  is,  and  if  people,  instead 
of  dosing  themselves  with  calumny  and  bitters,  would 
only  take  exercise  and  air  a  little  more,  and  wash  them- 
selves with  care  and  a  crash  towel,  they  would  be  all  the 
better  for  it." 

She  said  this  on  her  own  experience.  As  for  "  diet 
drink,"  and  summer  beverages,  Mrs.  P.  is  very  noted. 


A  NEW  INSTRUMENT. 

"  WHEN  is  he  going  to  bring  on  the  wioleen  ?  "  whis- 
pered Mrs.  Partington  to  a  neighbor,  at  the  Melodeon, 
after  listening  through  the  first  part  of  Ole  Bull's  con- 
cert. 

"  That 's  it,  ma'am,  which  he  is  now  playing  on." 

"Why,  that's  a  fiddle,  a'n't  it?  Good  gracious! 
why  can't  they  call  things  by  their  right  names?  " 

And  she  left  the  hall,  saying  to  the  door-keeper,  as 
she  passed,  that  it  was  only  a  fiddle  after  all. 


220  CRITJ  3ISM. 


CRITICISM. 

A  SMALL  crowd  gathered  before  a  window,  recently, 
to  admire  the  figure  of  a  cat  which  was  there  as  if  for 
public  inspection.  Nearly  every  one  was  delighted  with 
its  likeness  to  life. 

"  But  still,"  said  Augustus,  "there  are  faults  in  it; 
it  is  far  from  perfect ;  observe  the  defect  in  the  fore- 
shortening of  that  paw,  now ;  and  the  expression  of  the 
eye,  too,  is  bad;  besides,  the  mouth  is  too  far  down 
under  the  chin,  while  the  whiskers  look  as  if  they  were 
coming  out  of  her  ears.  It  is  too  short,  too  "  —  but,  as 
if  to  obviate  this  defect,  the  figure  stretched  itself,  and 
rolled  over  in  the  sun. 

"  It  is  a  cat,  I  vow  !  "  said  a  bystander. 

"It  is  alive !  "  shouted  Ike,  delightedly  clapping  his 
hands. 

"Why,  it's  only  &  cat,  arter  all,"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  as  she  surveyed  it  through  her  specs ;  but  Au- 
gustus moved  on,  disappointed  that  nature  had  fallen  so 
far  short  of  his  ideas  of  perfection  in  the  manufacture  of 
cats. 


BLEAK  HOUSE. — ELOQUENCE.         221 


BLEAK   HOUSE. 

"  DICKENS  is  fast  getting  along  to  the  denouncement 
of  the  Bleak  House,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  saw 
a  paragraph  mentioning  the  approaching  denouement  of 
the  story.  "  Well.  I  should  think  he  would  have 
denounced  it  long  ago,  and  had  it  prepared,  for  I  don't 
believe  they  could  have  made  him  pay  one  mill  of  rent 
unless  he  did  it  at  his  own  auction.  Bleak  House,  in- 
deed ;  and  Mr.  Dickson  a  poor  man,  too,  with  aliments 
enough  on  him  to  patternise  a  whole  hospital  himself!" 

The  picture  of  the  Good  Samaritan  handing  the  wounded 
Jew  a  quart  bottle  of  Sarsaparilla  Bitters  attracted  her 
attention,  and  she  delivered  Ike  a  private  lecture  on  the 
humanities,  while  he  sat  pulling  the  cat's  tail  in  the  dark 
side  of  the  chimney-corner.  < 


ADMIRATION  FOR  ELOQUENCE. 

"  DEAR  me,  how  fluidly  he  does  talk !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington  recently  at  a  temperance  lecture.  "  I  am 
always  rejoiced  when  he  mounts  the  nostril,  for  his  elo- 
quence warms  me  in  every  nerve  and  cartridge  of  my 
body.  Verdigrease  itself  could  n't  be  more  smooth  than 
his  blessed  tongue  is ;"  and  she  wiped  her  spectacles  with 
her  cotton  bandanna,  and  never  took  her  eyes  from  the 
speaker  during  the  whole  hour  he  was  on  the  stand. 
19* 


222  NAVES    OF   THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE. 


NAVES   OP  THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE. 

"  WELL,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  Ike  read  the  para- 
graph from  the  Post  that  the  decorators  were  at  work 
on  the  two  naves  of  the  Crystal  Palace.  She  paused  at 
the  '•  well "  before  she  went  further  into  it,  and  Ike 
stopped  reading  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say,  and  chewed 
up  a  part  of  the  paper  into  spit-balls,  which  he  amused 
himself  with  by  throwing  at  the  old  white-pine  dresser  in 
the  corner.  "  Well,"  said  she,  —  this  is  the  same  well  we 
left  some  time  since,  —  "I  am  glad  they  are  taking  time 
by  the  fire-lock  and  looking  arter  the  knaves  aforehand. 
Knaves  in  the  Christian  parish,  indeed  !  But  they  will 
get  in,  the  best  that  can  be  done.  There 's  many  a  one, 
I  dessay,  in  all  parishes  that  has  a  sanctuary  in  his  face, 
but  with  the  cloak  of  hypocrisy  in  his  heart.  Read  on, 
Isaac." 

And  the  old  lady  looked  up  at  the  black-framed 
ancient  picture  of  Susannah  and  the  elders,  and  patted 
her  box  reflectively. 


MB.    BISBEE'S   CONFESSION.  223 


MR.   BISBEE'S   CONFESSION. 

IT  was  a  rash  promise  that  I,  Jeremiah  Bisbee,  had 
made  to  the  youngest  Miss  Teel  to  gallant  her  to  church. 
I  knew  that  she  would  be  offended  if  I  did  not  comply, 
and  yet  how  I  felt !  The  previous  evening's  amusement 
had  extended  well  towards  daylight,  and  a  more  misera- 
bly-feeling fellow  than  myself  never  di'd  rouse  himself  at 
the  sound  of  breakfast-bell  on  a  Sunday  morning.  But 
the  promise  was  made,  and  the  glory  of  a  new  pair  of 
plaid  pants  and  a  red  velvet  vest  was  to  blaze  beside  the 
modest  beauty  of  Miss  Seraphima  in  the  Rev.  Mr.  Blunt' s 
church. 

I  had  no  seat  there,  but  my  cousins,  the  Misses  Tit- 
marsh,  who  owned  a  pew  in  the  broad  aisle,  had  many 
times  invited  me  to  sit  with  them,  informing  me  that 
there  was  plenty  of  room,  and  I  determined  to  avail 
myself  of  their  invitation.  The  pew  was  a  very  respect- 
able one,  I  knew,  as  I  had  heard  them  many  times 
describe  it  as  having  heavy  drapery,  and  all  the  other 
essentials  of  genteel  worship,  just  as  they  had  inherited 
it  from  the  deacon,  their  uncle.  I  had  heard  them 
describe,  too,  the  occupants  of  adjacent  pews,  and  had 
been  given  to  understand  that  the  Ogglers  and  Spighs, 
the  aforesaid  occupants,  were  the  most  respectable  people 
in  town,  and  that  they  felt  rather  envious  at  the  superior 
position  of  "our"  pew,  for  so  the  young  ladies  (forty- 
seven  if  they  were  a  day)  called  it. 


224  MR.  BISBEE'S  CONFESSION. 

The  day  was  bright,  the  pants  fitted  to  a  charm,  the 
red  vest  gleamed  in'  the  sun,  my  coat  was  neatly  brushed, 
and,  with  an  unexceptionable  hat,  and  a  pair  of  brilliant 
boots,  I  felt  myself  to  be  "  some."  The  sleepy  feeling 
with  which  the  morning  commenced,  was  overcome  by 
the  momentary  excitement  of  walking  and  talking  with  a 
charming  girl ;  a  triumph  over  Somnus  that  I  thought 
truly  wonderful. 

We  reached  the  church, —  a  large,  venerable,  sleepy 
pile,  having  a  good  many  pews  in  it,'  the  latter  a  charac- 
teristic, I  believe,  of  churches  generally.  There  was  a 
languor  upon  the  still  air  of  the  old  church  that  struck 
me  sleepily  as  I  took  my  seat  in  the  spacious,  high- 
backed  pew ;  the  monotonous  toll  of  the  bell  sounded 
like  a  lullaby,  and  the  swelling  notes  of  the  big  organ, 
which  rose  like  incense  to  the  roof,  and  pervaded  the 
house,  gave  me  a  qualm  that  my  boasted  triumph  outside 
would  not  be  of  permanent  duration,  opposed  to  the 
somnolent  influences  within. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  we  had  a  very  dull  preacher, 
—  a  duller  I  never  knew,  —  trite  and  common -place, 
without  originality  or  fervor,  and  insufferably  long.  I 
felt  sleepy  at  the  propounding  of  the  text,  which  was,  as 
near  as  I  remember,  "  Sleep  on,  and  take  your  rest ;" 
and  every  wakeful  feeling  within  me  began  to  grow 
heavy  about  the  eyes  at  the  injunction.  I  struggled 
against  slumber,  as  a  man  overboard  would  struggle  with 
the  tide.  My  eyelids  drooped  in  spite  of  me,  and  when 
J  would  open  them  they  felt  as  if  they  were  interlaced 
with  sticks,  and  my  sleepy  soul  seemed  looking  through 
a  grating  of  Avicker  work.  The  eyes  of  my  cousins,  the 


MR.  BISBEE'S  CONFESSION.  225 

Misses  Titmarsh,  were  wide  open  upon  me,  the  bright 
eyes  of  Seraphima  were  upon  me,  the  eyes  of  the  Ogglers 
and  Spighs  were  upon  me,  for  the  Misses  Titmarsh  had 
informed  me  in  a  whisper  that  they  were  here  in  full 
force,  and  that  the  new  plaid  pants,  and  the  red  vest, 
and  Seraphima's  new  bonnet,  a  charming  thing,  by  the 
way,  would  produce  a  tremendous  envy  among  their 
opponents  in  the  adjacent  pew. 

In  my  sleepy  reflections  I  saw  the  utter  disgrace  that 
would  attend  upon  my  cousins,  the  Titmarshes,  if  I  mis- 
behaved. I  thought  upon  them,  positively,  more  than 
upon  my  own  shame.  I  thought  of  the  horror  they 
would  feel  were  I  to  speak  aloud,  or  laugh,  or  tumble 
down,  or  commit  any  extravagance  in  a  dream.  All  of 
the  tricks  I  had  ever  practised  in  my  sleep  came  up 
before  me,  frightfully  magnified.  What  if  I  should 
practise  some  of  them  over  again,  or  get  up  on  the  backs 
of  the  pews  and  go  round,  as  Amina  foots  it  over  the 
tiles,  in  the  opera  ? 

I  struggled  manfully  with  sleep,  but  I  found  I 
couldn't  hold  out  long.  Hum-m-m,  hummed  on  that 
long  sermon !  —  Upon  my  honor,  I  don't  believe  I  heard 
a  word  of  it  besides  the  text,  unless  it  were  the  word 
"sleep,"  which  seemed  profusely  scattered,  like  poppies, 
along  the  tedious  way.  I  found  myself  rapidly  sinking. 
The  faces  by  which  I  was  surrounded  were  melting  away, 
the  Ogglers  and  the  Spighs  were  becoming  oblivious, 
and  the  preacher,  just  taking  the  form  of  a  huge  black 
beetle  impaled  on  a  pin,  was  humming  a  dull  drone  on 
one  continuous  key,  when,  mustering  resolution,  I  roused 
myself,  thrust  my  hand  hastily  into  my  pocket  to  pull 


226  MR.  BISBEE'S  CONFESSION. 

• 
out  my  handkerchief,  when,  —  the  Ogglers  and  Spighs 

were  all  looking,  and  so  were  the  Misses  Titmarsh  and 
Seraphima,  —  when,  —  I  blush  to  say  it,  though  it  was 
the  means  of  my  becoming  a  reformed  man,  and  a  toler- 
able member  of  society,  and  the  father  of  a  large  family, 
—  when  I  pulled  my  handkerchief  out,  a  pack  of  cards, 
a  deposit  of  the  previous  night,  came  leaping  out  with  it, 
and,  as  if  actuated  by  the  devil  who  invented  them,  they 
darted  about  in  almost  as  many  directions  as  there  were 
cards,  brazenly  showing  themselves  in  the  holy  house,  to 
my  utter  confusion  of  face. 

Had  my  worst  enemy  seen  me  then,  he  must  have 
pitied  me.  I  was  wide  awake  now.  The  concentrated 
redness  of  every  red  card  was  painted  upon  my  face,  and 
the  blackness  of  every  black  one  was  transferred  to  my 
heart.  The  spots  on  the  cards,  to  my  heated  fancy,  seemed 
bigger  than  a  cart-wheel.  I  heard  a  suppressed  titter 
among  the  Ogglers  and  the  Spighs.  Just  then  the  eldest 
Miss  Titmarsh  fainted.  "  Heaven  be  thanked  for  this  ! " 
says  I;  "here's  an  opening;"  and,  seizing  the  uncon- 
scious spinster,  I  made  for  the  door  as  speedily  as  pos* 
sible.  Placing  her  in  charge  of  the  sexton,  I  ran  with 
all  haste  for  the  doctor.  Strange  that  those  medical 
gentlemen  should  be  away  at  such  a  time  !  I  left  an 
urgent  order  on  the  slates  of  six  of  them,  and  was  told 
that  five  of  the  six,  an  hour  afterwards,  met  in  consulta- 
tion on  the  steps  of  Rev.  Mr.  Blunt' s  church. 

As  I  said  before,  I  have  now  reformed,  and  sit  just  in 
the  shadow  of  life's  afternoon,  looking  back  over  the 
events  of  its  morning,  rejoicing  with  hopeful  trust  that 
the  errors  of  youth  may  not  be  carried  forward  to  the 


GERMANIA    BAND.  227 

account  of  mature  age,  if  repentance  make  atonement  for 
the  past.  The  Misses  Titmarsh  forgave  me,  and  Scra- 
phima,  in  a  long  life  of  devoted  attention  on  my  part,  has 
quite  forgot  that  Sunday's  mortification. 


GERMANIA  BAND, 

"How  do  you  like  the  music,  Mrs.  P.?"  asked  her 
neighbor  of  the  old  lady,  as  she  stood  listening  to  the 
Germania  band,  one  evening  on  the  common,  and  beat- 
ing time  on  the  cover  of  her  snuff-box. 

"  Beautiful !  "  replied  she,  enraptured,  "  oncommon 
beautiful !  It  seems  almost  like  the  music  of  the  syrups. 
I  think  the  Geranium  band  the  sweetest  of  any  of  'em. 
Can  you  tell  me,"  said  she,  in  a  big  whisper,  "which 
is  Mr.  Bergamot  ?  " 

The  name  of  Bergamot  was  associated  with  her  rappee 
and  hence  her  solicitude. 

She  \vas  told  that  Mr.  Bergman  belonged  to  the 
Germania  Society,  and  that  the  leader  of  the  Germania 
Serenaders  was  Mr.  Schnapp. 

A  smile  lit  up  her  face,  revealed  in  the  declining 
twilight,  as  she  asked  if  he  was  akin  to  Mr.  Aromatic 
Schnapps,  the  gentleman  that  imported  so  much  gin. 
Her  ear  was  arrested  by  the  strains  of  the  music,  and 
the  black  bonnet  waved  in  unison  with  a  waltzing  meas- 
ure, as  Isaac  sat  upon  the  grass  in  contemplation  of  a 
dog's  tail  before  him,  wondering  what  the  effect  would 
be  if  he  should  stick  a  pin  in  it. 


A    GOOD    SUGGESTION. 


A   GOOD   SUGGESTION. 

ESSRS.  CHANG  and  Ex  a 
—  those  interesting  ex- 
otics, from  whose  land 
all  the  golden  fountains 
and  talking  lauras,  and 
singing  trees  that  graced 
our  juvenile  literature 
•were  derived  —  were 
much  gratified  by  an  in- 
troduction to  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  one  of  whom 
assured  her  that  he  had 
heard  of  her  in  Siam 

many  years  .ago,  but  the  other  did  n't  recollect  about  it. 
On  informing  her  of  their  intention  to  go  to  Saratoga  or 
Newport  the  coming  summer,  the  old  dame  wondered  at 
the  determination. 

"  How  crowded  you  will  be  !  "  said  she,  "  accommo- 
dations are  so  scarce;  though,  I  dare  say,  you  could, 
upon  a  'mergency,  both  sleep  in  one  bed." 

The  suggestion  was  a  happy  one  —  all  the  difficulty 
was  removed  in  an  instant  —  and  the  dual  gentleman 
smiled  a  thankee  with  his  four  lips,  and  Mrs.  Partington 
waved  a  parting  benediction  to  him  with  her  green  cotton 
umbrella,  as  he  disappeared  in  the  crowd. 


CATCHING    AN    OMNIBUS.  229 


CATCHING  AN   OMNIBUS. 

"  IF  you  want  to  take  a  'bus,"  said  Mr.  Sphynx,  in 
his  oracular  manner,  "you  must  be 'mazing  sly;  you 
must  n't  go  boldly  up  to  'em,  'cause  they  '11  certingly 
be  full,  —  room  for  twelve,  and  seventeen  inside,  — or  the 
driver  won't  see  you,  if  you  shake  your  umbrel  or  cane 
at  him  never  so  much.  'Buses  are  queer  critters —  very 
queer ;  it  takes  sunthing  of  a  man  to  understand  their 
natur.  When  you  want  one,  there  a'n't  one  coming. 
Put  your  head  out  in  the  rain,  and  look  every  which 
way,  you  can't  see  hide  nor  hair  of  one.  Wait  till  the 
next  one  comes  —  that 's  full ;  so 's  the  next.  Then  you 
get  a  little  miff  d,  and  says  you,  '  I  '11  walk  ! '  Start 
in  the  rain  —  get  wet ;  when  you  get  almost  where  you 
want  to  go,  'long  comes  one  of  'em,  like  blazes  —  lots 
of  room  —  looking  at  you  as  much  as  to  say,  '  See  here, 
old  boy  !  don't  you  wish  you  'd  ha'  waited  ?  '  and  whisks 
by  like  a  racer.  If  you  see  a  'bus  a  little  ways  ahead, 
and  run  yourself  into  a  fever  to  catch  it,  two  to  one  it'll 
be  the  wrong  'bus,  and  you  '11  have  to  walk,  arter  all. 
Now  the  way  to  do  is  this :  —  Act  jest  as  if  you  don't 
care  a  snap  whether  you  ride  or  not.  Be  indifferent, 
and  one '11  come  right  along;  don't  be  uneasy  'bout 
getting  a  seat,  and  there  '11  be  plenty  of  room ;  conclude 
that  you  '11  walk,  and  you  may  have  a  whole  'bus  to 
yourself.  That 's  the  way  to  come  it  over  'em  !  "  Say- 
ing which,  and  shaking  his  head  profoundly,  Mr.  Sphynx 
retired. 

20 


280  IKE    IN   A    NEW    POSITION. 


IKE   IN  A  NEW  POSITION. 

IKE  got  a  situation  to  blow  an  organ  in  town,  and  one 
Sunday  a  stranger  organist  took  it  into  his  head  that  he 
would  try  the  instrument  a  little  after  the  congregation 
was  dismissed.  He  expressed  his  desire  to  the  boy,  who 
consented  to  blow ;  for  there  are  few  more  obliging  boys 
than  Ike  when  he  is  well  used.  He  pumped  away  vig- 
orously for  some  time,  until  his  arm  ached,  when,  peep- 
ing round  the  corner  of  the  organ,  he  asked  if  he  might 
now  go. 

"No!"  said  the  organist,  curtly,  and  kept  on, 
drumming  away  among  the  dainty  airs  that  he  was 
taking  upon  himself,  — now  thundering  among  the  bass 
notes,  and  now  glancing  playfully  amid  the  tender  trills 
of  the  pianissimos,  —  when,  confusion  to  a  fugue  com- 
menced, the  breath  of  the  organ  gave  out,  and  the  music 
flattened  to  a  dying  and  dismal  squeal. 

"Holloa!"  cried  the  performer,  "don't  get  asleep 
there  —  blow  away !  " 

But  no  response  attended  his  command.     He  grew  red. 

"  Blow  away,  I  say !  "  he  cried,  louder, 

Still  no  response. 

Angrily  and  inharmoniously  the  man  of  music  arose 
and  looked  for  Ike.  He  was  not  there,  and  the  mad  man 
of  melody,  as  he  glanced  from  the  window,  caught  a  dis- 
tant view  of  a  pair  of  juvenile  coat-tails  as  they  disap- 
peared round  a  corner. 


UNPOPULAR  DOCTRINE.  231 


UNPOPULAR  DOCTRINE. 

"I  WAS  surprised,  Mr.  Roger,  to  see  you  speaking 
with  that  creature"  said  Miss  Prim,  significantly  em- 
phasizing the  word. 

"  Why,  madam?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Because  she  is  a  low,  vile  creature  of  the  town," 
said  she,  waspily. 

He  took  her  hand  within  his  own,  and  looked  her 
calmly  in  the  eye,  as  he  replied :  —  "  Call  her  not  vile ; 
call  her  miserable,  rather;  and  as  such  she  is  more  worthy 
of  your  regard  and  pity ;  for,  though  she  may  have  sadly 
erred,  she  still  is  not  all  depraved ;  that  old  spark  of 
sympathy  in  her  heart  is  there  yet  unquenched.  I  have 
seen  her  not  long  since  watch  by  the  sick,  work  for  the 
needy,  and  give  her  money  for  their  relief;  take  her  own 
bread  and  give  it  to  a  poor  felon  in  prison,  and  comfort 
a  little  child  in  its  sinless  sorrow ;  —  I  have  seen  this, 
and,  bad  as  you  think  she  is,  /  can  honor  her  for  her 
virtues.  My  dear  madam,  gain  her  good  qualities,  and 
add  them  to  your  own  perfections,  before  presuming  to 
sit  in  judgment  on  her  bad  ones.  Besides,  do  you  know 
what  temptation  is,  ma'am  ;  were  you  ever  tempted?  " 

The  frosty  look  which  met  his  own  seemed  to  render 
such  a  question  unnecessary,  and  he  released  her  hand, 
gently  advising  her  to  exercise  more  of  charity  in  her 
estimate  of  character. 


282  BENEVOLENCE. 


BENEVOLENCE. 

PHILANTHROPOS,  the  day  after  the  great  Railroad 
Jubilee,  appeared  in  public  with  two  excessively  black 
eyes.  It  seems  that  he  was  going  by  one  of  our  prin- 
cipal hotels,  when  a  large  delegation  arrived  from  out  of 
town,  and  hearing  the  remark,  "All  full,"  his  heart  was 
touched,  and,  mounting  upon  a  post,  he  asked  the  crowd 
if  they  would  n't  like  to  have  a  nice  house  to  stop  at, 
A\here  every  man  could  have  a  room  to  himself,  and 
every  accommodation  he  could  desire.  The  response  was 
"Yes." 

"  Well,"  said  the  good  man,  with  emotion,  "well,  if 
I  hear  of  any  such  I  will  let  you  know." 

The  people  were  strangers,  and  did  not  understand 
the  benevolence  of  his  intentions,  and  one  or  two  of  them 
expressed  their  disapprobation  in  a  striking  manner, 
which  marred  the  good  man's  pleasant  exterior,  as  above 
described. 

On  the  day  pf  the  above  celebration,  a  large  loco- 
motive was  brought  to  a  standstill  in  Washington  street, 
in  consequence  of  one  of  the  wheels  giving  out  belonging 
to  the  car  it  was  on.  PHILANTHROPOS,  with  an  eye 
always  to  the  interests  of  the  mechanic,  seeing  the  danger 
to  which  the  engine  was  exposed,  walked  sentry  round 
it  all  night  to  prevent  the  boys  from  running  away  with 
it.  It  was  an  act  for  which  he  should  have  been  honored : 
but  the  workmen  called  him  an  ass  for  his  pains,  when 


MYSTERIOUS   ACTION    OF    RATS.  238 

they  came  the  next  morning  to  take  it  away.  His 
indignation  for  a  moment  was  awakened ;  despair  suc- 
ceeded of  ever  being  able  to  benefit  his  race  ;  when  a 
small  voice  whispered  to  his  conscience:  "Will  you 
abandon  an  eternal  principle  because  crude  humanity 
fails  to  appreciate  your  efforts  1  "  and  he  responded 
promptly  to  the  question,  and  turned  away  in  search  of 
new  objects  for  the  exercise  of  his  benevolence. 


MYSTERIOUS  ACTION   OF   RATS. 

"  As  for  the  rats,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  missed 
several  slices  of  cake,  the  disappearance  of  which  she 
imputed  to  them,  "it  a'n't  no  use  to  try  to  get  rid  of 
'em.  They  rather  like  the  vermin  anecdote,  and  even 
chlorosive  supplement  they  don't  make  up  a  face  at.  It 
must  be  the  rats,"  continued  she,  thoughtfully,  and  took 
a  large  thumb  and  forefinger  full  of  rappee  to  help  her 
deliberation,  —  "it  can't  be  Isaac  that  took  the  cake, 
because  he  is  a  perfect  prodigal  of  virtue,  and  wouldn't 
deceive  me  so,  for,  I  might  leave  a  house  full  of  bread 
with  him  and  he  would  n't  touch  it." 

Ike  sat  there  demurely,  with  his  right  foot  upon  his 
left  knee,  thinking  what  a  capital  sunglass  one  eye  of  the 
old  lady's  specs  would  make,  while  a  trace  of  crumbs 
was  visible  about  his  mouth.  It  is  feared  that  not  even 
chlorosive  supplement,  nor  anything  weaker  than  a  pad- 
lock, will  save  Mrs.  Partington's  cake. 

20* 


234  MRS.    P.    ON   THE   MISSISSIPPI. 


MRS.   P.   ON   THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

"WHEN  will  the  Father  of  Waters  come  along?" 
asked  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  sat  looking  at  a  panorama 
of  the  Mississippi,  in  the  last  hours  of  its  exhibition. 

"The  Father  of  Waters!"  replied  the  individual 
addressed,  "why,  this  is  it  that  you  are  seeing  before 
you." 

"Goodness  me!  is  it?"  said  she,  "why,  I've  di- 
gested my  specs  to  look  arter  a  big  man  with  the  dropsy, 
and  it's  nothing  but  a  river,  arter  all.  How  I  wish 
they  'd  call  things  by  their  proper  names  !  " 

There  was  something  of  disappointment  in  her  tone ; 
but  when  afterwards  she  remarked  to  herself  "  I  wonder 
if  that  water  will  wash?"  it  was  a  beautiful  tribute  from 
Benevolence  to  Genius. 


"  ENTERED  at  the  Custom  House?"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington, pondering  on  the  expression ;  "I  don't  see  how 
the  vessels  ever  got  in ;  but  I  am  glad  that  the  collector 
cleared  'em  right  out  again.  It  will  learn  them  better 
manners  next  time,  I  think." 


PROVISIONS   OF  THE   CONSTITUTION.  235 


PROVISIONS  OF  THE  CONSTITUTION. 

"  PROVISIONS  of  the  Constitution  !  "  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  with  an  earnest  air  and  tone ;  "for  my  part  I 
should  be  glad  to  see  'em.  Heaven  and  all  of  us  knows 
provisions  is  scarce  enough  and  dear  enough,  and  if  they 
can  turn  the  Constitution  to  so  good  a  use  I  'm  glad  of 
it.  Anything  that  will  have  a  tenderness  to  cheapen  the 
necessities  of  life," — and  here  she  laid  her  finger  on  the 
cover  of  her  box,  and  looked  earnestly  at  a  cracked 
sugar-bowl  in  the  "buffet"  in  the  corner,  containing  the 
onion-seeds,  and  the  bone-buttons,  and  the  scarlet  beans, 
and  the  pieces  of  twine,  long-gathered  from  accumulative 
paper  tea-bags,  —  "  I  am  agreeable  to  it,  and  if  they  can 
turn  the  Constitution  and  all  the  ships  of  war  to  carrying 
provisions,  I  am  shore  they  will  do  more  jrood  than  they 
do  now  a  good  many  of  'em." 

She  here  ran  down  like  an  eight  day  clock,  and  she 
smiled  as  Ike  rushed  in  with  his  arms  full  of  votes,  and 
his  face  full  of  fun  and  molasses  candy,  and  asked  her  if 
he  should  n't  give  her  a  "tig  whicket." 


286         SEVERE,  BUT  JUST. — MRS.  P.  AND  PIETY. 


SEVERE,   BUT  JUST. 

'  DOLLY  PRIM  a  spinster,  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
inton,  as  she  heard  her  unmarried  neighbor  in  the  back 
parlor  termed  thus.  "  1  should  like  to  know  what  upon 
airth  she  spins  but  street-yarn ;  for  she  's  gadding  from 
morning  to  night.  The  wheel  she  spins  on  would  be 
harder  to  find,  a  great  deal,  than  the  fifth  wheel  of  a 
coach !  " 

0  !  she  could  be  severe,  could  Mrs.  Partington ;  but 
there  was  generally  a  commingling  of  the  bitter  and 
sweet,  the  wormwood  and  molasses,  in  her  rebukes,  that 
tempered  acidity,  and  made  reproof  wholesome. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AND   PIETY. 

DEACON  SNARL,  in  exhortation,  would  often  allude  to 
the  "  place  where  prayer  is  '  wonted '  to  be  made." 

"Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Partington  to  herself,  "there's 
nothing  like  humility  in  a  Christian.  I  'm  glad  you 
confess  it.  I  don't  know  a  place  under  the  canister  of 
heaven  where  prayer  is  wanted  more  to  be  made  than 
here,  and  I  hope  you  '11  be  forgiven  for  the  rancorous 
butter  you  sold  me  yesterday." 

She  was  a  simple-minded  woman,  was  Mrs.  P.,  and 
was  apt  to  get  the  world  mixed  up  with  her  devotion ; 
believing,  somehow,  that  Christian  duty  prescribed 
worldly  justice.  She  had  n't  been  long  a  member. 


• 


•BRICKS  AND  STRAW. — MEDALLIC  PROSPECTS.     237 


BRICKS   AND   STRAW. 

DR.  DIGG  has  discovered  a  striking  analogy  between 
the  brickmaking  operations  of  the  Israelites  in  Egypt  and 
those  of  the  present  day.  In  the  first  instance  straw  was 
required  in  the  manufacture  of  a  perfect  brick;  in  the 
latter  straw  is  an  essential  thing,  as  is  shown  in  the 
imbibation  of  juleps,  an  element  in  the  manufacture  of 
modern  bricks,  where  straw  is  invariably  used.  The 
Doctor  asks  when  Egypt  was  like  a  dry  lemon.  Pre- 
suming the  answer  will  not  be  forthcoming,  he  says, 
"  After  the  Jews  were  all  out  of  it."  It  is  supposed  he 
means  ju  Ice. 


MEDALLIC   PROSPECTS. 

"I  DON'T  see,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  Ike  came 
home  from  the  examination,  and  threw  his  books  into 
one  chair,  and  his  jacket  in  another,  and  his  cap  on  the 
floor,  saying  that  he  did  n't  get  the  medal,  —  "I  don't 
see  why  you  did  n't  get  the  medal,  for,  certainly,  a  more 
meddlesome  boy  I  never  knew.  But  never  mind,  dear ; 
when  the  time  conies  round  again  you'll  get  it." 

What  hope  there  was  in  her  remark  for  him  !  and  he 
took  courage  and  one  of  the  old  lady's  doughnuts,  and 
sat  wiping  his  feet  on  a  clean  stocking,  that  the  dame 
was  preparing  to  darn,  that  lay  by  her  side. 


238  MRS.   PARTINGTON   BEATING  UP. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  BEATING  UP. 

"  THERE'S  poor  Hardy  Lee  called  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Partmgtori  on  a  trip  from  Cape  Cod  to  Boston.  The 
arind  was  ahead,  and  the  vessel  had  to  beat  up,  and  the 
order  to  put  the  helm  "  hard  a  lee"  had  been  heard 
through  the  night.  "  Hardy  Lee,  again  !  I  declare  I 
should  think  the  poor  creetur  would  be  completely  exas- 
perated with  fatigue;  and  I'm  certain  he  has  n't  eat  a 
blessed  mouthful  of  anything  all  the  while.  Captain,  do 
call  the  poor  cretur  down,  or  Natur  can't  stand  it." 

There  was  a  tremor  in  her  voice  as  indignant  humanity 
found  utterance.  "  It  a'n't  Christian  —  it  is  more  like 
the  treatment  of  Hottenpots  or  heathen  !  " 

The  captain  went  on  deck,  and  a  sudden  lurch  of  the 
vessel  sent  the  old  lady  on  her  beam-ends  among  some 
boxes,  recovering  from  which  forgetfulness  of  "  Hardy 
Lee"  ensued,  and  this  tack  brought  her  to  the  wharf. 


A  DEAD  SHOT.  —  SHOCKING  JOKE.       239 


A  DEAD   SHOT. 

"  How  do  you  feel  with  such  a  shocking-looking  coat 
on?  "  said  a  young  clerk,  of  more  pretension  than  brains, 
one  morning. 

"  I  feel,"  said  old  Roger,  looking  at  him  steadily,  with 
one  eye  half  closed,  as  if  taking  aim  at  his  victim,  "  I 
feel,  young  man,  as  if  I  had  a  coat  on  which  has  been 
paid  for, — a  luxury  of  feeling  which  I  think  you  will  never 
experience;"  and  then  he  quietly  resumed  the  reading 
of  the  Post,  and  the  young  clerk  made  no  further  remark 
on  the  subject. 


SHOCKING  JOKE. 

"  I  SEE,"  said  old  Roger  to  a  farmer  topping  corn, 
' '  that  to  one  branch  of  your  industry  you  are  its  worst 
enemy." 

"Why?"  asked  the  farmer. 

"  Because,"  replied  he,  "  you  are  always  raising 
shocks  for  the  corn-market." 

"  Yes,"  quietly  replied  the  farmer,  "  but  the  market 
is  always  saying,  '  lend  us  your  ears.'  " 

Old  Roger  and  the  farmer  smiled  at  each  other  as  they 
parted. 


240 


RIDING. 


RIDING. 


]HAT  a  vast  improvement  Las  been  made 
upon  the  old  methods  and  means  of 
travelling,  even  within  the  memory  of 
the  youngest  of  us!  Recall  the  old 
staging  system  a  moment  to  mind,  when  a  day's  ride  was 
agony  in  its  anticipation,  not  to  be*dispelled  by  the  stern 
reality,  over  roads  scarce  redeemed  from  primeval  rough- 
ness, which  the  jolly  tongue  of  the  red-faced  driver  — 
provided  you  were  lucky  enough  to  get  on  the  box 
with  him  —  was  hardly  capable  of  enlivening.  What 
apprehension  did  timid  insiders  feel  of  threatening  wreck 
at  the  bottom  of  the  steep  hills  they  rattled  down  !  How 
fearful  they  would  be  of  never  reaching  the  top  of  the 
next  hill,  from  the  miserable  horses  giving  out  that  were 
attached  to  the  vehicle !  How  they  trembled  at  the 
danger  of  having  their  brains  knocked  out  against  the 
roof  of  the  low  coach,  in  the  rebound  that  anon  jerked  them 
from  their  seats  as  the  stage-wheel  sunk  into  a  cart-rut ! 


RIDING.  241 

For  this  latter  alarm  there  was  considerable  cause,  to 
judge  by  a  story  told  us  once  by  one  of  the  professors 
of  the  whip.  He  was  riding,  he  said,  one  day  over  the 
way  we  were  then  travelling,  in  a  terrible  bad  season  of 
the  year,  when  the  cart-wheels  had  cut  the  roads  up  into 
hideous  gullies,  into  which  the  wheels  would  plunge,  to 
the  danger  of  all  who  chose  to  ride  ;  and  often  the  pas- 
sengers had  to  get  out  and  lay  their  shoulders  to  the 
work  to  assist  the  horses  in  their  exertions  to  extricate 
the  vehicle  from  the  mud.  The  day  he  spoke  of,  how- 
ever, he  had  but  one  passenger, —  an  elderly  gentleman, 
wearing  a  wig, — and,  feeling  his  responsibility  lessened  by 
his  diminished  fare,  he  took  less  heed  as  to  where  he  went, 
and  dashed  along  over  the  road,  whistling  from  absence 
of  care,  entirely  regardless  of  horses  or  passenger,  deter- 
mined to  achieve  the  distance  to  the  next  stopping-place 
in  a  time  mentally  allotted  for  its  performance.  It  was  one 
of  the  old-fashioned  low-roofed  coaches,  one  of  the  oldest  of 
its  class.  A  sudden  cry  from  a  child  who  was  passing 
caused  him  to  look  round,  and  there  to  his  horror  he 
saw  the  old  gentleman's  bald  head  glistening  in  the  sun's 
rays  like  a  mammoth  mushroom,  his  eyes  glaring  on  him 
wildly,  and  his  mouth  vainly  endeavoring  to  articulate. 
It  was  but  an  instant  before  he  was  extricated  from  his 
perilous  situation.  In  one  of  the  sudden  lurches  of  the 
road  he  had  been  forced  up  through  the  canvass  roof, 
and  this  closing  around  his  neck  held  him  there,  incapa- 
ble of  helping  himself,  and  he  had  ridden  many  miles  in 
this  manner  before  he  was  discovered. 

"  That  story's  just  as  true,  now,  as  I  tell  it  to  you," 
said  the  driver. 

21 


242  MRS.    PAHTINGTON   LOOKING   OUT. 

"  Don't  doubt  it,"  we  replied ;  "  but  what  became  of 
the  hat  and  wig?" 

"I  can't  say  anything  about  the  hat,  but  I'm  very 
much  mistaken  if  I  did  n't  see  that  old  wig,  for  three 
seasons,  used  as  a  genteel  residence  for  a  family  of  crows 
down  the  road  here." 

A  very  singular  story,  we  thought,  and  think  so 
still. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   LOOKING  OUT. 

"  I  CAN'T  make  it  out,"  said  Mrs.  Partington  one 
morning,  when  she  first  moved  to  the  city,  after  the 
railroad  ploughshare  had  upturned  her  hearth-stone. 
"  I  can't  make  it  out ;"  and  she  reached  further  out  of 
the  window,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  the  "embargo" 
returning  again  to  her  head,  or  of  a  somerset  into  the 
street  below.  She  had  caught  the  sound  "  Here 's  had- 
dick  !  "  from  stentorian  lungs  under  her  window,  and  she 
could  not  make  out  what  the  sounds  meant. 

"  I  wish  I  knowed  what  the  poor  critter  was  crying 
about,  but  I  thought  he  said  he  had  a  sick  headache ; 
and  I  declare  I  pity  the  poor  soul  that  has  got  such  a 
distressing  melody  as  that." 

She  drew  in  her  head,  like  a  clam,  and  shut  down  the 
window,  to  keep  out  the  sounds  of  a  misery  she  could 
not  relieve. 


FORESEEING   THINGS  BEFOREHAND.     •         243 


FORESEEING  THINGS  BEFOREHAND. 

"I  WONDER  who  is  coming  here  to-day?"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  at  the  breakfast  table,  turning  her  cups  and 
working  the  tea-grounds  to  their  oracular  position.  It 
was  the  4th  of  July,  and  a  procession  was  advertised  to 
pass  her  door.  ' '  I  wonder  who  is  coming  here  to-day  7 
Here 's  a  horse,  and  a  wheelbarrow,  and  a  tub ;  and 
there  's  a  big  G  and  a  cipher ;  and  here  's  a  flock  of  geese 
and  a  cow.  The  cow  and  the  geese  must  mean  the 
procession,  that 's  clear  ;  but  what  can  the  big  G  stand 
for,  and  the  rest  of  'em  ?  It  must  mean  our  seventh 
cousin,  Mrs.  Tubbs  ;  and  it  is  so  kind  of  her  to  remem- 
ber her  poor  relations  at  such  times,  as  she  always  does. 
Yes,  it  must  be  her,  'cause  there  's  a  tub,  and  the  wheel- 
barrow must  run  for  an  omnibus;  but  what  can  the 
cipher  be  1  I  guess,  though,  that  don't  mean  anything. 
Scour  up  the  German  silver  spoons,  Margaret ;  we  must 
be  hospitable.  I  dare  say  she  would  be  to  us  if  she  should 
ever  ask  us,  and  we  should  go." 

The  prediction  was  fulfilled,  and  the  fat  lady  occu- 
pied the  front  seat  in  Mrs.  Partington' s  private  box. 


244  A   SINUOSITY. 


A  SINUOSITY. 

OLD  ROGER  was  seated  at  the  dinner-table  by  the  side 
of  Seraphima,  the  youngest  of  the  five  marriageable 
daughters.  The  conversation  turned  upon  conundrums 
and  queer  comparisons.  The  old  fellow  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  and,  wiping  the  traces  of  soup  from  his  mouth, 
said,  as  he  took  the  young  lady's  hand  in  his  own,  "See 
this  fair  hand,  now,  white  as  a  snow-flake,  and  rich  with 
dimpled  beauties ! "  —  Seraphima  smiled.  —  "Who  is  there 
among  you  that  can  tell  me  why  this  sweet  hand  is  like 
the  remains  of  that  '  hock-shin '  soup  before  us  all  ?  " 

The  hand  was  drawn  back  suddenly,  —  that  fair  hand, 
compared  with  a  vile  pile  of  beef  sinews  !  The  board- 
ers were  astonished  at  his  audaciousness,  —  Seraphima 
frowned. 

"  You  can't  guess,  can  you?"  said  the  jolly  old  fel- 
low. "Well,"  continued  he,  "it  is  because  there  is  such 
tendonness  in  it." 

He  pronounced  it  "  tenderness,"  and  Seraphima  smiled 
again ;  but  the  boarders,  who  had  found  the  meat  rather 
hard,  did  n't  see  the  relevancy  of  it,  — they  didn't  know 
what  tendon  meant,  no  more  'n  a  cow  knows  about  ita 
grandmother. 


THE  SCIENCE   OF  FISH.  245 


THE   SCIENCE   OP   FISH. 

"  I  WONDER  what  this  '  itch  theology  '  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  giving  a  somewhat  novel  pronunciation  of  the 
old  science,  as  she  read  the  announcement  of  the  lecture 
by  Professor  Agassiz ;  "  what  in  the  name  of  Old  Scratch 
can  it  be  7  I  suppose  it  must  mean  the  itch  for  meddling 
with  politics  and  things  that  does  n't  concern  'em,  and 
running  down  their  own  country  and  relations,  and  prais- 
ing up  everybody  else,  and  at  war  with  everything,  all 
the  time  they  are  preaching  peace." 

Some  one  explained  that  it  was  the  science  of  fishes. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  lady,  "it's  just  as  well;  for 
a  minister  preaching  politics  is  like  a  fish  out  of  water  — 
he  is  out  of  his  ailment." 

She  passed  over  to  the  deaths  and  marriages,  and  Ike 
ganged  his  hook,  with  an  afternoon's  smelting  in  his  eye, 
and  a  ball  of  Mrs.  Partington's  piping-cord  in  his  pocket 
for  contingencies. 

21* 


246         ETERNAL   INDEBTEDNESS.  —  NEWSPAPERS. 


ETERNAL   INDEBTEDNESS. 

"  WHEN  I  lent  her  the  eggs,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
"she  said  she  would  be  eternally  indebted  to  me,  and  I 
guess  she  will.  How  can  people  do  so  ?  I  would  go 
round  the  world  on  all-fours  a  begging  before  I  would  be 
guilty  of  such  a  thing.  Ah,  well,  it  takes  everybody  to 
make  a  world  !  " 

And  she  put  in  saleratus  enough  to  make  up  for  the 
non-returned  eggs;  her  neighbor  had  decidedly  taken 
a  rise  out  of  her. 


BORROWING  NEWSPAPERS. 

"  SHALL  I  have  the  goodness  to  look  at  your  news- 
paper one  moment?  "  asked  Mrs.  Partington  at  the  grocery 
store. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  madam,  with  the  greatest  reluct- 
ance possible,"  replied  the  grocer. 

They  exchanged  glances,  and  there  was  so  much  of 
thankfulness  in  her  eye  that  he  almost  made  up  his  mind 
to  subscribe  for  another  paper  for  her  express  accommo- 
dation. 


PROMISING   CHILDREN.  247 


PROMISING  CHILDREN. 

"  WHAT  a  to-do  people  make  because  children  happen 
to  know  something  when  they  are  young  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  read  an  account  of  many  men  who 
had  been  distinguished  in  early  years.  "  Now,  all  these 
together  don't  know  so  much,  by  one  half,  as  Dolly 
Sprigg's  baby.  That  is  a  perfect  prodigal,  to  be  sure  ; 
sich  an  intellect !  Why,  it  got  through  its  goo-googles, 
and  into  its  bar-bars,  afore  it  was  seven  months  old,  and 
when  it  was  only  a  year  and  a  half  old  it  emptied  a 
snuff-box  down  its  precious  old  grandmother's  throat  as 
she  was  asleep,  and  came  nigh  suffocating  the  old  lady 
afore  she  could  wake  up  to  conscientiousness  and  spit  it 
out.  There  never  was  sich  another,  its  mother  says,  — 
and  who  knows  so  well  as  a  mother  what  a  child  is,  that 
has  watched  over  it,  and  seen  it  expand  itself  like  a  tansy 
blossom,  and  sweet  as  a  young  cauliflower  ?  " 

The  old  lady  was  always  eloquent  on  this  topic  ;  she 
was  a  believer  in  prodigies,  and  thought  Solomon  must 
have  consulted  some  young  mother  when  he  wrote  that 
"  every  generation  grows  wiser  and  wiser." 


248  FORGIVENESS  OF  WRONG. 


FORGIVENESS   OF  WRONG. 

"HE  called  me  a  termagrunt,  and  said  I  wasn't  any 
better  than  I  should  be,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
threw  her  shawl  into  the  water-bucket,  and  her  bonnet 
on  the  floor,  on  her  return  from  her  landlord's,  where 
she  had  vainly  sought  an  extension  of  time  for  payment 
of  the  rent ;  ' '  there  never  was  such  an  aspiration  cast 
upon  one  of  our  family  before ;  there  is  no  such  thing  in 
our  whole  craniology ;  and,  if  there  is  any  statuary  or 
law  for  slander,  I  '11  see  if  he  can  prove  it.  The  terma- 
grunt I  don't  mind  so  much ;  but  to  be  called  no  better 
than  I  should  be — the  mean,  penny-catching  curmudgin! 
But  no,  it 's  wrong  to  call  him  names ;  it  makes  me  most 
as  bad  as  he  is;  I '11  borrow  the  money  and  pay  him,  I 
will,  and  show  him  that  I  don't  bear  mallets  ;"  and  she 
brightened  up  in  the  thought  of  this  mode  of  revenge, 
bustling  about  and  putting  the  house  to  rights  in  the 
best  humor  in  the  world.  Her  conduct  was  a  sermon 
and  seven  tracts  on  the  sublime  principle  of  forgiveness 
of  wrong. 


WHAT  kin  is  that  which  all  Yankees  love  to  recognize, 
and  which  always  has  sweet  associations  connected  with 
it  1 '  Why,  pump-kin,  to  be  sure. 


A   NEGATIVE   AFFIRMATIVE.  249 


A  NEGATIVE  AFFIRMATIVE. 

MR.  TIMMS,  a  farmer  up  in  the  country,  had  a  habit 
of  putting  in  "Yes  yes,  yes  yes,"  at  every  pause  in  his 
speaking,  which  sometimes  had  a  ludicrous  effect.  The 
old  fellow  owned  a  fine  horse,  which  he  was  very  careful 
of,  and  would  never  lend  or  hire  him  to  the  most  partic- 
ular of  his  friends.  A  youngster  of  the  village,  who 
wished  the  horse  for  a  Sunday  ride,  went  over  to  the 
old  man's  house,  to  hire  the  animal,  if  possible. 

"  So,  you  want  my  horse,  young  man?  yes  yes,  yes 
yes,"  said  Timms;  "and  you  say  you'll  ride  him 
gently?  yes  yes,  yes  yes;  and  you  ;11  give  him  plenty 
of  oats?  yes  yes,  yes  yes;  and  rub  him  down  well 
when  you  get  where  you  are  going?  yes  yes,  yes  yes; 
and  will  give  me  a  dollar  for  the  use  of  him  ?  yes  yes, 
yes  yes.  Well,  upon  the  whole,  you  can't  have  him, 
—  yes  yes,  yes  yes." 

The  young  man  left  sorrowing. 


WE  see  it  stated  in  the  prints,  frequently,  that  vessels 
going  to  California  double  Cape  Horn.  If  this  is  the 
case,  by-and-by  there  will  not  be  a  single  Cape  Horn 
left. 


250  TAKING   PICTURES. 


TAKING  PICTURES. 

"  THAT  is  a  splendid  likeness,  by  Heaven  !  "  exclaimed 
Augustus,  rapturously,  as  Mrs.  Partington  showed  him 
a  capital  daguerreotype  of  Ker  own  venerable  frontis- 
piece. 

"No,  it  isn't,"  said  she,  smiling;  "no,  it  isn't  by 
Heaven  itself,  but  by  its  sun ;  is  n't  it  beautifully  done  ? 
All  the  cemetery  of  the  features,  and  cap-strings,  and 
specs,  is  brought  out  as  nateral  as  if  from  a  painter's 
palate.  Any  young  lady,  now,"  continued,  she  "  who 
would  like  to  have  the  liniments  of  her  pretended  hus- 
band to  look  at  when  he  is  away,  could  be  made  happy 
by  this  blessed  and  cheap  contrivance  of  making  pictures 
out  of  sunshine." 

She  clasped  the  cover  of  the  picture,  paused  as  if  pur- 
suing in  her  own  mind  the  train  of  her  admiration,  and 
went  out  like  an  exploded  rocket. 


"  MAR  is  born  to  work  ;  and  he  must  work  while  it  is  day." 

"  Have  I  not,"  said  a  great  worker,  "all  eternity  to 
work  in?" 

"  Well,"  said  Slug,  who  didn't  love  work,  "if  that's 
the  case,  what  'n  time 's  the  use  of  putting  in  so  ?  I  'd 
jist  as  lieves  divide  the  work,  and  do  part  of  mine  when 
that  cove 's  resting." 


PRECOCITY.  251 


PRECOCITY. 

THE  elder  Smith  was  somewhat  astonished  one  evening 
at  finding  a  berry  pie  for  tea,  —  a  rather  remarkable 
thing  in  his  gastronomical  experience,  for  Mr.  Smith 
indulged  in  few  luxuries,  for  reasons  which  will  be  un- 
derstood by  people  of  limited  means.  It  was  an  excellent 
pie,  the  chef  d'ceuvre  of  the  culinary  skill  of  Mrs.  Smith, 
who  prided  herself  upon  what  she  could  do  if  she  only 
had  the  "  grediences."  Smith  junior,  numbering  some 
three  summers,  sat  opposite  his  sire. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  'un,  during  a  pause  in  the 
work  of  mastication,  "did  your  mother  make  this  pie 
to-day?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  precocious  youth ;  "  she  did  n't, 
of  course,  make  it  to-morrow  !  " 

The  elder  Smith  looked  mournfully  at  the  miniature 
edition  of  himself,  then,  wiping  the  crumbs  from  his 
mouth,  and  ejaculating  "  So  young ! "  he  left  the 
house. 


252 


MR.  THIMBLE'S  MOUSE-TRAP. 


MR.  THIMBLE'S   MOUSE-TRAP. 

|HE  old  gentleman  one 
morning  discovered  a 
mouse  in  his  bed- 
chamber. A  mouse 
or  a  rat  was  what  he 
held  in  the  utmost 
dread,  and  even  the 
idea  of  getting  his 
hand  on  one  by  any 
accident,  always  gave 
him  a  tremor.  Seeing 
the  little  animal  thus 
in  his  very  bed-cham- 
ber was  most  provoking,  and,  reaching  for  an  oaken  cane 
always  at  the  head  of  his  bed.  a  defence  against  hostile 
invaders  of  this  "inner  shrine,"  he  at  once  vowed  the 
mouse's  destruction,  and,  cane  in  hand,  started  upon  its 
accomplishment. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  he,  between  his  fixed  teeth,  as  he  closed 
the  door  and  firmly  grasped  his  stick ;  "  now,  Mr.  Mouse, 
I've  got  you  —  I'll  fix  your  flint  for  you!"  and  the 
poor  little  timid  thing  running  into  a  corner,  the  old  gen- 
tleman levelled  a  furious  blow  at  him,  repeating  his  threat 
to  fix  his  flint  for  him. 

This  offer  to  fix  the  flint  of  the  mouse  is  hardly  intel- 


MR.  THIMBLE'S  MOUSE-TRAP.  253 

ligible  in  this  age  of  patent  matches ;  but  Mr.  Thimble 
lived  in  tinder-box  times,  when  flint  and  steel  were  insep- 
arable, and  he  probably  thought  that  an  animal  so  inclined 
to  steal  must  have  a  flint. 

The  blow  was  wrongly  directed,  and  the  mouse  escaped 
to  another  corner. 

Another  blow,  and  another,  resulted  in  the  same  man- 
ner; until  at  last  the  mouse  finding  cover  beneath  an 
antique  bureau,  the  old  gentleman  was  compelled  to  exert 
all  his  generalship  to  bring  him  out. 

But  in  vain  he  got  down  on  all-fours  and  looked  be- 
neath the  bureau ;  in  vain  was  the  cane  thrust  in  the 
direction  of  his  eyes ;  the  enemy  was  nowhere  to  be  seen, 
and  Mr.  T.  got  up,  flushed  with  the  exercise,  brushed  his 
knees,  and  went  down  to  breakfast,  wondering  where  the 
little  animal  had  gone. 

After  relating  the  incident,  he  was  calmly  engaged  in 
cooling  his  coffee,  when,  dropping  his  cup,  he  darted 
from  the  table  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  dragged  half 
the  breakfast  things  after  him,  and  practised  antics  very 
unbecoming  in  an  elderly  gentleman  of  sixty-two. 

His  family,  astonished  to  see  him  thus,  had  incipient 
ideas  of  lunatic  asylums  and  strait  jackets  dart  across 
their  minds  —  the  old  gentleman  the  while  capering  about 
the  room  like  a  mad  dancing-master,  shaking  his  right 
leg  as  if  St.  Vitus  had  selected  this  member  for  his  par- 
ticular favor,  regardless  of  the  rest,  until,  with  a  tremen- 
dous spasmodic  kick,  out  fell  the  mouse  from  where  he 
had  secreted  himself! 

It  was  long  before  Mr.  T.  regained  composure. 
22 


254  MES.  PAKTINGTON  VS.    COOK-BOOK. 

Some  time  after,  speaking  of  his  activity,  Mrs.  Thim- 
ble remarked,  — 

"  My  dear,  I  didn't  think  it  was  in  you." 
Mr.  T.  looked  queerly  at  her,  as  she  uttered  this,  but 
did  n't  say  anything. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  „*.  COOK-BOOKS. 

"  A  BEEFSTEAK  fried  in  water,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
"  it  seems  to  me,  must  taste  very  much  as  if  it  was  biled. 
They  do  have  such  curious  idees  about  cooking  now-a- 
days !  And  people  has  to  learn  lots  of  outlandish  names 
before  they  know  what  they  've  got  for  dinner.  Ah ! 
the  good  old  times  was  the  best,  when  people  seasoned 
their  dishes  with  flag-root  and  such  spices,  and  a  poor 
man's  fragile  repast  was  eaten  when  he  knew  what  he 
had  to  be  thankful  for." 

What  a  cook  she  is,  to  be  sure !  And  is  n't  it  the 
cause  of  rejoicing  for  a  week  among  the  boys  in  the 
neighborhood  when  she  fries  up  a  batch  of  doughnuts, 
and  Ike  knows  where  they  are  kept  ?  No  wonder  she 
thought,  as  she  said,  that  he  ate  like  Pharaoh's  lean 
kind,  that  eat  up  the  fat  of  the  land  of  Egypt. 


ON   ELOCUTION.  255 


ON   ELOCUTION. 

"  0,  DOES  N'T  he  disclaim  fluidly  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Partington,  delightedly,  as  she  listened  to  the  exercises 
of  the  Humtown  Intellectual  Mutual  Improvement  Society. 
Her  admiration  knew  no  bounds  as  a  young  declaimer, 
with  inspiration  truly  Demosthenic,  launched  the  flashing 
beams  of  his  eloquence  broadcast  among  his  auditors, 
with  thrilling,  dazzling,  burning  force;  anon  soaring 
like  a  rocket  into  the  "  empyrean  blue,"  dashing  belter 
skelter  amidst  the  stars,  and  harnessing  the  fiery  comets 
to  the  car  of  his  genius ;  anon  scouring  the  land  like  a 
racer,  the  hot  sparks,  like  young  lightning  marking  his 
Phaetonish  course;  anon  breaking  through  the  terra- 
queous shell,  and  revelling  in  Hadean  horrors  in  under- 
ground localities  somewhere. 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Partington,  whom  we  left  standing 
on  the  threshold  of  her  admiration  some  way  back,  recalls 
us  to  herself. 

"  How  fluidly  he  talks  !  He  ought  to  be  a  minister, 
I  declare ;  and  how  well  he  would  look  with  a  surplus 
on,  to  be  sure  !  He  stands  on  the  nostrum  as  if  he  was 
born  and  bred  an  oratorio  all  his  life.  I  wish  the 
President  was  here  to-night ;  I  know  he  'd  see  he  was  an 
extr'ord'nary  young  man,  and  like  as  not  appint  him 
minister  extr'ord'nary,  instead  of  some  that  never 
preached  any  at  all." 

The  old  lady  beat  time  with  her  fan  to  his  gesticula- 


256  OUTRAGE. 

tions,  nodding  the  black  bonnet  approvingly,  and  smiled 
as  the  young  man  told  the  world  that  Franklin  had 
made  it  a  present  of  the  printing-press. 


OUTRAGE. 

DURING  a  concert  one  night,  a  reckless  individual,  in 
the  upper  gallery  of  the  large  hall  in  which  it  was  held, 
whose  name  we  did  not  ascertain,  allowed  his  bill  of  the 
concert  to  slip  through  his  fingers,  which,  falling  below, 
by  the  rule  of  gravitation,  fell  suddenly  upon  the  exposed 
head  of  one  of  our  first  young  men !  The  effect  of  the 
concussion  upon  an  object  so  tender  may  be  well  imag- 
ined. Smelling-bottles  were  called  for,  and,  none  being 
at  hand,  one  young  lady  applied  her  glove  to  the  suf- 
ferer's nose,  which,  having  been  lately  cleansed  with 
turpentine,  had  the  effect  of  bringing  him  to.  The 
diabolical  perpetrator  of  the  act  had  the  audacity  to  look 
over  the  edge  of  the  gallery  and  grin  at  the  injury  he 
had  done,  but,  before  the  officer  could  get  to  the  gallery 
and  arrest  him,  he  had  flown. 

P.  S.  —  We  wish  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  it 
was  the  glove,  and  not  the  nose,  that  had  been  cleaned 
with  the  turpentine. 


IKE   IN  THE   COUNTRY.  257 


IKE  IN  THE   COUNTRY. 

DURING  the  last  winter  Ike  was  sent  to  visit  some  of 
Mrs.  Partington's  relatives,  who  live  on  the  borders  of 
the  Great  Bay.  Squid  River,  which  empties  into  the 
bay,  is  a  very  beautiful  stream  in  summer,  but  in  winter 
it  is  dreary  enough,  with  the  tall  trees,  stripped  of  their 
foliage,  standing,  as  it  were,  shivering  upon  its  brink. 
But  it  is  a  rare  skating  course  from  Moose  village  to  the 
river's  junction  with  the  bay. 

Ike  had  used  up  all  his  resources  for  fun  at  the  end 
of  the  third  day.  He  had  snowballed  the  cattle  into  a 
frenzy,  caught  all  the  hens  in  a  box  trap,  tied  the  pigs 
together  by  the  legs,  sucked  all  the  eggs  he  could  find, 
and  was  looking  round  for  something  else  to  do,  while 
the  boys  were  at  school.  He  was  just  calculating,  as  he 
poised  a  snowball,  how  near  he  could  come  to  a  tame 
pigeon  on  the  window-sill  without  hitting  it,  when  the 
glass  was  saved  by  the  appearance  of  the  house-cat  out- 
side the  sacred  precinct  of  the  kitchen. 

Ike  had  watched  this  cat  wistfully  ever  since  he  had 
been  there,  and  the  cat  had  manifested  a  strange  repug- 
nance to  him  ever  since  he  trod  on  her  tail  as  she  lay  by 
the  stove.  He  immediately  seized  upon  her,  and  ex- 
pedients, never  wanting,  soon  suggested  themselves  to 
him. 

There  were  plenty  of  clam-shells  about  the  yard,  and, 
selecting  four  of  the  smoothest,  he,  by  the  aid  of  some 
22* 


258  IKE   IN   THE   COUNTEY. 

grafting.wax  at  hand,  soon  had  Tabby  beautifully  shod 
with  clam-sheila  and  on  the  way  to  the  river.  Ike's  idea 
was  to  learn  her  to  skate  ! 

The  river  was  smooth  as  glass,  and  a  sharp  wind  blew 
along  its  surface  towards  the  bay.  "  Now,  Puss,"  said 
Ike,  as  he  pushed  her  upon  the  ice,  "  go  it ! "  An 
instinct  of  danger  instantly  seized  upon  her.  Her  claws, 
which  Ike  had  found  so  sharp  a  short  time  before,  were 
now  useless  to  her,  and,  with  a  growl  of  spite,  she 
swelled  her  caudal  appendage  to  an  enormous  size 
which,  taking  the  wind,  impelled  the  poor  feline  like  a 
clipper  over  the  slippery  path.  The  tail  stood  straight 
as  a  topmast,  and  grew  bigger  and  bigger,  and  faster  and 
faster  flew  the  animal  to  which  the  tail  belonged.  Ike 
laughed  till  he  cried  to  see  the  cat  scudding  before  the 
wind.  But  now  the  bay  lay  before  her,  and  far  out 
over  the  smooth  ice  was  the  blue  water  of  the  sea. 

The  result  can  be  guessed.  The  cat  never  came  back, 
and  everybody  wondered  what  had  become  of  her,  and 
thought  it  augured  ill  luck  for  a  cat  to  leave  a  house  so 
suddenly.  Ike  thought  so,  especially  for  the  cat. 

Ike's  conscience  reproached  him  sadly,  but  he  com- 
promised the  matter  by  leaving  the  tenants  of  the  barn- 
yard in  peace  all  the  while  he  staid  there,  and  came  home 
with  a  pocket  full  of  doughnuts  and  an  enviable  reputa- 
tion for  propriety. 


AN  ALLEGORY.  259 


THE  NEW  YEAR-AN  ALLEGORY. 

"  WHAT  are  your  intentions  towards  Miss  New- Year?  " 
sternly  asked  the  old  Guardian  of  Years,  as  Time,  in  the 
garb  of  youth,  stepped  forward  to  make  his  proposals. 
The  fair  being  to  whom  he  aspired  stood  veiled  before 
him,  in  mystical  beauty,  beside  the  seer,  whose  dim  eyes 
had  seen  the  birth  and  death  of  thousands  of  years,  and 
whose  beard  was  white  with  the  frost  of  centuries,  and 
whose  voice  creaked  with  the  rust  of  many  ages. 

Time,  buoyant  with  the  hopes  of  youth,  promised 
much.  Their  union,  he  said,  would  be  fruitful  of  great 
events.  Joy  and  prosperity  would  attend  upon  it.  By 
their  union  the  arms  of  the  weak  would  be  strengthened ; 
the  tyrant's  power  be  shorn  of  its  might ;  the  poor  and 
down-trodden  be  exalted;  the  desponding  be  made  to 
sing  for  joy;  abuse  be  banished  from  the  earth;  the 
wrath  of  man  be  restrained ;  and  the  struggle  for  right 
be  crowned  with  success. 

The  old  guardian  shook  his  head  incredulously,  and  a 
tear  fell  upon  his  gray  beard  as  he  spoke  : 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  "  he  said,  "  the  same  promises  were 
made  by  your  sire  to  her  fair  mother,  and  broken,  as 
have  been  all  the  promises  of  Time  since  the  world  began. 
Where  is  the  fruition  of  the  glorious  hopes  held  out  foi 
bygone  years  ?  They  have  found  their  end  in  gloo»  ana 


260  AN   ALLEGORY. 

disappointment.  How  can  I  trust,  then,  this  precious 
charge  to  your  arms  in  view  of  olden  failures?  " 

Then  young  Time,  laying  down  his  hour-glass  and 
gayly  swinging  his  scythe  among  the  few  weeds  left  of 
the  herbage  of  the  old  year,  made  answer,  with  a  firm 
tone  and  a  cheerful  air :  — 

"  The  violated  promises  of  others  should  not  be  the 
criterion  for  judging  of  mine ;  nor  their  failure  be  urged 
as  a  presage  of  my  own  ill-success.  Let  me  prove  myself 
by  iny  acts,  and  if  endeavor  may  win  the  goal,  my  chance 
is  good.  Let  me  try." 

The  old  guardian  grasped  Time  by  the  hand  approving- 
ly ;  the  hand  of  the  virgin  year  was  placed  in  his,  and, 
as  the  clock  struck  the  hour  of  twelve,  the  form  of  the 
old  seer  faded  from  view,  and  the  mystical  one,  for  better 
and  worse,  for  joy  and  sorrow,  became  the  wedded  bride 
of  Time. 


PERSONAL  cleanliness  is  a  virtue,  but  it  is  not  pleasant 
to  see  a  man  cleaning  his  teeth  with  a  questionable 
pocket-handkerchief;  neither  is  it  to  see  a  man,  however 
attentive  he  may  be  to  the  wants  of  his  family,  put  a 
beef-steak  in  the  crown  of  his  hat,  and  fill  his  trousers' 
pockets  with  cucumbers.  It  don't  look  well. 


THE   ARCHITECTURAL   BLACK   EYE.  261 


THE  ARCHITECTURAL  BLACK  EYE. 

WE  met  old  Guzzle  one  day,  with  a  terrible  black  eye. 
"  Ah  !  "  said  we  to  the  interesting  individual,  "bad  eye 
that." 

"Yes,  that  'ere's  a  architectural  eye." 

We  asked  an  explanation. 

"  I  say  this  'ere 's  a  architectural  eye,  because  I  got  it 
from  the  Elizabethan  architecture  of  our  house." 

We  Avere  in  the  dark  as  much  as  ever. 

"  T'other  night,"  continued  he,  "  I  went  home  partially 
tight.  I  say  partially,  for,  'pon  my  honor,  I  had  drank 
but  seven  times  during  the  evening.  I  felt  my  way  up 
by  the  wainscoting,  because  I  didn't  want  to  make  a 
noise,  and  when  I  got  to  the  top,  I  forgot  what  a  deuced 
wide  staircase  it  was,  and  when  I  turned  to  go  towards 
my  door,  what  does  I  do  but  walks  right  down  stairs 
again,  a  good  deal  faster  than  I  went  up,  and  struck  my 
head  agin  the  corner-post,  and  be  hanged  to  it !  Bad 
eye,  isn't  it?  And  all  from  that  infernal  Elizabethan 
stairway." 

We  thought  that  the  fault  lay  with  the  rum. 


262  SEEKING   A   COMET. 


SEEKING  A   COMET. 

IT  was  with  an  anxious  feeling  that  Mrs.  Partington, 
having  smoked  her  specs,  directed  her  gaze  towards  the 
western  sky,  in  quest  of  the  tailless  comet  of  1850. 

"  I  can't  see  it,"  said  she;  and  a  shade  of  vexation 
was  perceptible  in  the  tone  of  her  voice.  "  I  don't  think 
much  of  this  explanatory  system,"  continued  she,  "  that 
they  praise  so,  where  the  stars  are  mixed  up  so  that  1 
can't  tell  Jew  Peter  from  Satan,  nor  the  consternation 
of  the  Great  Bear  from  the  man  in  the  moon.  'T  is  all 
dark  to  me.  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  comet  at  all. 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  comet  without  a  tail,  I  should  like 
to  know?  It  is  n't  natural ;  but  the  printers  will  make 
a  tale  for  it  fast  enough,  for  they  are  always  getting  up 
comical  stories." 

With  a  complaint  about  the  falling  dew,  and  a  slight 
murmur  of  disappointment,  the  dame  disappeared  behind 
a  deal  door,  like  the  moon  behind  a  cloud. 


AMONG  the  Roman  priesthood  was  a  class  called 
augurs.  There  are  many  great  bores  among  our  mod- 
ern priests. 


BENEVOLENCE   UNAPPRECIATED.  263 


BENEVOLENCE  UNAPPRECIATED. 

PHILANTHROPOS  was  at  a  public  meeting  one  evening, 
where  the  heat  was  distressing,  and,  observing  a  lady  on 
a  seat  in  front  of  him  who  appeared  to  be  suffering  from 
excessive  warmth,  he  went  out  and  bought  a  large  fan, 
which  he  delicately  set  in  motion,  as  if  fanning  himself, 
while  he  made  every  effort  to  give  her  the  benefit  of  the 
artificial  breeze,  becoming  himself  additionally  heated 
from  the  exertion  he  made,  losing  all  interest  in  the 
concert  from  his  intentness  in  the  benevolent  action,  and 
smiling  to  himself  with  the  belief  that  his  kindness  was 
felt  without  its  source  being  known.  He  was  thus 
benevolently  happy,  until  he  heard  the  lady  tell  her 
husband  to  go  and  shut  down  that  odious  window  behind 
her,  for  she  had  felt  cold  on  her  neck  all  the  evening 
from  the  east  wind.  Philanthropes  went  out  and  sold 
the  fan  for  seven  cents  that  he  had  given  a  quarter  for 
an  hour  before. 


AN  editor  having  stated  in  his  paper  that  he  had  been 
presented  with  a  number  of  varieties  of  plumbs,  old 
Roger  declared  his  preference  for  the  perpendicular. 


264 


THE   PARTING   WORD. 


THE  PARTING  WORD. 

'N  telling  a  story  about 
a  Printer,  I  am  not 
about  detailing  the 
mysteries  and  difficul- 
ties of  his  occupation, 
although  a  feeling 
and  interesting  sketch 
might  be  made  of  the 
business  of  his  life, 
with  its  care  and  toil 
for  the  good  of  the 
world.  I  love  the 
printers  from  associa- 
tion and  long  habit ;  am  proud  now  of  their  companion- 
ship ;  and,  when  walking  arm-and-arm  with  my  friend, 
the  President  of  the  Franklin  Typographical  Society,  I 
feel  as  well  as  if  the  individual  in  the  hook  of  my  arm 
Were  the  President  of  the  United  States.  My  intention 
in  this  little  tale  is  simply  to  give  the  incidents  of  a 
printer's  life,  wherein  his  heart  was  concerned,  and  not 
to  meddle  with  his  profession  in  any  way,  save  to  dignify 
my  hero  by  the  association. 

The  "  Freeman's  Star"  was  located  in  Patny,  the  shire 
town  of  Seaburn  county,  in  our  State,  and  it  exerted  a 
great  influence  upon  the  mind  and  manners  of  the  people. 
Society  took  its  tone  from  the  printing-office.  The  mag- 


THE    PARTING    WORD.  265 

nates  of  the  place  owned  its  sway,  perhaps  through  fear, 
and  the  humblest  looked  towards  it  with  reverence,  for 
they  had  heard  of  its  power  as  the  "  defender  of  the  peo- 
ple's rights,"  and  never  deemed  how  much  of  humbug 
there  was  in  the  profession.  The  editor  was  looked  up  te- 
as a  great  man,  and  people  would  touch  one  another  as 
he  passed,  and  whisper,  "  That  is  the  editor  ! "  He  had 
been  foreman  of  a  daily  office  in  the  city,  and  his  impor- 
tance was  unbounded  on  the  assumption  of  his  new 
honors.  In  a  proportionate  degree  all  hands  in  the  office 
were  marked  men.  The  single  journeymen,  the  grown- 
up apprentice  from  the  neighboring  town,  and  the  demon 
himself,  were  all  marked  individuals,  and  people  treated 
them  deferentially  for  their  connection  with  the  "  mighty 
engine"  that  had  such  power.  Their  opinions,  expressed 
at  times  about  the  weather,  or  the  elections,  or  the  crops, 
were  listened  to  attentively,  and  everything  that  appeared 
in  the  Freeman's  Star  was  imputed  to  one  or  the  other  of 
the  "printers"  by  the  particular  friends  of  each.  Let  a 
piece  of  village  poetry  appear,  or  a  good  story  culled 
from  some  city  paper,  and  at  once  would  be  seen  in  it  by 
the  different  parties  traces  of  the  mind  of  each  of  their 
favorites.  They  would  have  known  it  to  be  his  if  they 
had  seen  it  in  the  moon,  if  they  were  by  accident  located 
in  that  planet  and  had  met  with  it  there. 

It  was  in  this  office  that  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  hero  of  rny  story  —  the  grown-up  apprentice  — 
who  bore  the  uneuphonious  name  of  Jabez  Bee.  He  was 
a  spirited  fellow,  very  intelligent,  and  as  full  of  mischief 
u  as  an  egg  is  full  of  meat,"  to  use  an  expressive  modern- 
ism. He  was  a  constant  attendant  upon  the  tavern,  in 
23 


2GG  THI:  PARTING  WORD. 

all  his  leisure  moments,  where,  attracting  a  crowd  of 
countrymen  around  him,  he  would  astonish  them  by  the 
keenness  of  his  Avit  and  the  extent  of  his  information,  and 
many  a  marvellous  story  have  his  country  friends  carried 
home  "  as  latest  news,"  that  originated  in  the  teeming 
brain  of  Jabez.  Steamboats  were  blown  up  and  railroad 
accidents  were  as  common  then,  in  this  way,  as  now, 
when  the  melancholy  realities  need  no  draught  upon  the 
fancy,  for  instances. 

But  he  gained  a  character  for  wit  at  the  expense  of 
his  moral  reputation,  which  is  too  often  the  case ;  and  at 
eighteen,  though  everybody  liked  him  and  laughed  with 
him,  he  was  set  down  as  not  likely  ' '  to  turn  out  very 
well" — a  great  phrase  in  Patny.  People  cautioned 
their  sons  and  daughters  about  going  in  his  company, 
and  "  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners  "  was 
written  as  a  copy  in  every  girl's  and  boy's  writing-book 
in  town.  But  he  laughed  at  them  all,  and  the  boys 
joined  him ;  and  the  girls,  who,  somehow  or  other,  always 
seem  to  set  more  by  the  wild  and  mischievous  than  by 
the  staid  and  prudent,  loved  Jabez  very  sisterly.  He 
was  bold  and  generous  —  qualities  which  no  true  woman 
can  see  in  a  man  without  admiring  them. 

Far  more  discerning  than  older  ones  in  matters  of  soul, 
they  had  discriminated  long  ago  between  the  mischief 
and  wildness  of  Jabez  and  his  malice  and  wickedness,  and 
a  large  balance  was  set  down  in  their  hearts  in  favor  of 
his  good  qualities.  They  saw  a  sympathetic  smile  or 
tear  where  those  who  decried  him  saw  but  levity  and 
heartlessness.  They  smiled  upon  him  for  striving  to 
gave  the  child's  lamb  from  drowning  in  the  well,  and  re- 


THE    PAKTING    WOKD.  267 

joiced  outright  when  he  threw  the  bully  over  the  fence, 
who  was  maltreating  the  widow's  son. 

The  most  beautiful  girl  in  Patny  was  Susan  Bray. 
She  was  a  charming  little  creature,  Avith  an  eye  as  blue 
as  a  violet  in  spring,  a  voice  as  soft  as  the  evening  bird's, 
a  cheek  like  the  blush  of  the  apple  blossom,  and  a  breath 
as  sweet  as  its  perfume  breathed  over  the  pearly  purity 
of  her  teeth.  Her  form  was  slight  and  graceful,  and  as 
lithe  as  the  bending  corn  or  the  wavy  pliancy  of  the 
yielding  grass.  I  am  not  good  at  describing  beauty  in 
ladies.  'T  is  not  my  forte ;  but  I  am  determined  here- 
after to  put  myself  under  the  hand  of  my  friend  Paul 
Creyton,  or  some  other  master  of  art,  and  become  better 
versed  in  the  science  of  drawing  word-portraits.  Enough 
is  it  for  my  purpose  to  say  that  she  was  very  beautiful, 
and  that  over  her  beauty  was  thrown  a  fascination  of 
manner  and  a  propriety  that  was  peculiarly  delightful. 
She  gained  for  herself  from  her  admiring  companions  the 
expressive  soubriquet  of  "  the  lily  of  the  vale,"  and  her 
modesty  and  grace  justified  the  title. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Bray,  the  village  black- 
smith, and  having  been  educated  in  a  distant  town,  her 
return  to  Patny  was  like  the  rising  of  a  new  star  or  the 
discovery  of  a  new  flower.  The  young  men  were  de- 
lighted with  her  manners,  and  the  young  women  — 
pleasant  creatures  —  gave  her  their  hearts  willingly,  for 
they  feared  rivalry  from  her  no  more  than  they  would 
from  the  new  moon.  She  moved  in  a  circle  that  the  bold 
printer  boy  did  not  enter.  The  blacksmith  was  a  hard 
man,  and  the  reputation  of  Jabez  was  such  that  it  did 
not  commend  itself  very  favorably  to  the  old  man's  mind, 


268  THE   PARTING   WORD. 

and  he  had  discouraged  acquaintance  with  him.  From 
the  time  of  her  return,  however,  had  Jabez  Bee  looked 
upon  the  fair  Susan  admiringly,  but  at  a  distance.  He 
gazed  upon  her  with  a  respectful  feeling  that  had  no 
affinity  with  the  lighter  and  laughing  affection  he  felt 
for  the  village  girls  of  his  acquaintance.  He  felt  that 
she  was  a  superior  being  to  the  whole  of  them,  and  his 
soul  bowed  with  reverence  at  her  shrine  —  hoping 
nothing  and  asking  nothing  but  to  lay  its  silent  offering 
at  her  feet,  as  the  simple  votary  brings  garlands  in  the 
still  of  the  morning  to  hang  upon  the  shrine  of  some 
favorite  saint.  It  was  a  beautiful  feeling,  and  as  pure 
as  beautiful.  The  love  at  first  almost  unconscious 
became  at  length  the  absorbing  feeling  of  his  life.  It 
marked  his  conduct  and  conversation,  and  the  unconfessed 
passion  he  felt  moulded  the  impetuous  and  the  wild  boy 
into  a  dreamer  and  a  visionary.  He  pored  over  books, 
and  the  woods  and  glens  and  water-brooks  were  familiar 
with  his  footsteps.  He  acted  in  short,  dear  reader,  as 
you,  and  I,  and  almost  all  others,  have  done,  or  might 
Rave  done,  under  like  circumstances,  made  himself  very 
ridiculous,  and  the  Freeman's  Star  literally  groaned  with 
the  efforts  of  his  awakened  muse;  and  well  it  might  groan, 
as  everybody  did  that  read  what  he  wrote.  The  poetry 
was  more  truthful  than  lovely,  and  its  quantity,  like 
the  Irishman's  dance,  compensated  for  its  quality.  The 
change  in  his  conduct  was  marked.  Business  was  more 
closely  attended  to,  and  the  tavern  frequented  less.  He 
became  a  perfect  marvel  to  his  friends,  who  wondered 
what  had  come  over  him,  and  as  the  spiritual  knockings 
had  just  come  along,  some,  in  levity,  gave  it  as  their 


THE    PARTING    WORD.  269 

opinion  that  lie  had  had  an  interview  with  the  ghost  of 
his  grandmother,  that  had  rebuked  his  gracelessness. 
But  though  he  was  less  lively  than  formerly,  he  was  none 
the  less  kind  to  all,  and  everybody  loved  him  as  well  or 
better  than  ever. 

But  fate,  so  called  —  that  officiates  as  a  sort  of  junior 
Providence  in  the  affairs  of  men  —  decided  that  a  passion 
so  fostered  and  concealed  should  be  known,  and  that  all 
the  speculation  with  regard  to  Jabez  Bee's  mystery, 
grandmother's  ghost  and*all,  should  be  swallowed  up  by 
a  knowledge  of  the  fact. 

There  was  to  be  a  great  picnic  in  Patny.  The  Free- 
man's Star  had  announced  it  for  a  month  in  big  type, 
and  in  an  editorial  notice  had  apprized  the  people  that  it 
was  to  occur  on  such  a  day,  weather  permitting  —  the 
editor  dwelling  with  great  eloquence  upon  the  happy 
combination  of  beauty  and  cold  chicken,  pancakes  and 
poetry,  crackers  and  conversation,  cider  and  scenery,  in 
making  up  the  sum  total  of  its  enjoyment.  The  day 
came  auspiciously  ;  the  sun  was  bright,  and  the  air  was 
balmy;  the  lads  and  lasses  laughed  lavishly,  and  the 
birds  sang  sweetly  in  the  bushes.  In  a  grove  near,  the 
company  held  high  carnival  to  Pan,  and  the  arches 
of  the  woods  were  vocal  with  the  noise  of  mirth.  Near 
by  was  a  charming  little  lake,  hemmed  in  by  trees  and 
bordered  by  sedges,  dotted  here  and  there  by  patches  of 
lily  pads,  amid  whose  deep  green  the  water  flowers 
gleamed  like  stars,  and  this  lake  wooed  many  to  its  brink, 
to  admire  its  beauty,  to  plash  in  its  cool  water,  or  sail 
upon  its  still  bosom  in  a  tiny  boat  that  was  at  hand. 
Jabez  and  Susan  were  of  the  party,  and  through  the 
23* 


270  THE    PARTING    WORD. 

atmosphere  of  her  presence  he  saw  a  new  and  mystical 
beauty  in  everything  —  the  trees  were  greener,  the  ber- 
ries were  brighter,  the  air  was  balmier,  and  the  music  of 
the  pines  had  a  new  and  sweeter  melody.  Susan  was 
one  of  a  few  that  had  wandered  towards  the  lake,  and 
Jabez  had  watched  her  at  a  distance,  fondly  drinking  in 
with  every  faculty  of  his  being  her  charms  as  they 
became  revealed  to  him,  in  her  playful  movements  among 
the  trees ;  and  her  smiles,  though  not  for  him,  were  sun- 
shine to  his  heart.  And  now  his  heart,  that  interesting 
organ,  throbs  wildly,  as  he  sees  her  with  playful  reck- 
lessness step  upon  the  tiny  boat  and  push  it  from  the 
shore.  The  treacherous  twig  to  which  the  boat  was  tied 
broke  at  the  strain  it  received,  and  Susan  Bray  was  afloat 
and  alone  upon  the  waters  of  the  lake.  Each  effort  she 
made  to  gain  the  shore  was  fruitless,  when,  her  paddle 
having  become  entangled  in  the  lily  pads,  she  was 
thrown,  pale  as  one  of  her  kindred  lilies,  into  the  water. 
Confusion  immediately  ensued,  and  rash  endeavor  to 
save  her  only  threatened  her  more  sure  destruction,  when 
Jabez  Bee  rushed  madly  to  the  scene,  and  in  a  minuto 
was  by  her  side.  The  water  was  very  deep,  but,  with 
one  arm  grasping  the  boat  and  the  other  supporting  his 
fair  burden,  he  held  her  above  the  current  until  assist- 
ance came,  when,  completely  exhausted  with  the  exer- 
tion used,  he  fainted  as  he  reached  the  shore. 

In  such  manner  did  the  intimacy  commence  be- 
tween Jabez,  the  printer,  and  the  fair  Susan  Bray,  an 
intimacy  that  resulted  in  a  mutual  affection  as  pure  and 
exalted  as  ever  burned  in  the  breast  of  more  noted  heroes 
or  heroines  of  romance.  The  heroic  conduct  and  gener- 


THE    PARTINQ    WORD.  271 

Odity  of  her  lover  won  her  heart,  as  her  beauty  and  inno- 
cence had  won  his,  and  they  were  mutually  happy,  of 
<;ourse. 

But  the  Freeman's  Star  waned  in  its  brilliancy ;  its 
four  hundred  subscribers  did  not  pay;  buckets  and 
apple-sauce,  in  which  subscribers  generally  paid,  had 
ceased  to  be  negotiable  articles  in  the  payment  for  paper 
and  ink ;  and  the  Star  went  down  in  darkness,  leaving 
poor  Jabez  minus  employment,  but  with  plus  hope.  Love 
fed  Hope,  and  Hope  held  out  her  candle,  and  Faith 
grew  strong  within  him  that  the  future  had  great  things 
in  store  for  him. 

Lovers'  partings  have  been  so  often  described  that  the 
parting  of  Jabez  and  Susan  must  be  imagined ;  for,  as 
every  one  will  at  once  perceive,  it  became  necessary  for 
them  to  part.  We  will  merely  state  with  regard  to  it, 
that  it  was  tender  and  interesting  to  themselves,  and  alTJ 
to  the  miller's  maiden  sister,  who  watched  the  last  kiss  on 
the  door-step,  when  he  tore  himself  away  the  night  before 
he  went  to  Boston.  But  she  did  n't  hear  what  he  said. 

"  Dear  Susan,"  said  he,  "keep  up  a  good  heart,  and  I 
shall  return  to  you,  don't  fear ;  and  I  will  prove  myself 
worthy  of  you,  too,  God  bless  you,  and  when  we  meet 
again  we  will  love  each  other  all  the  better.  '  Absence 
makes  the  heart  grow  fonder,'  you  know.  So  wipe  your 
eyes,  Susan,  dear,  and  give  me  some  word  that  I  may 
remember  when  danger  is  nigh,  and  it  will  prove  a  love- 
charm  that  evil  and  temptation  cannot  overcome." 

He  pressed  her  to  his  beating  heart  as  he  spoke,  and 
put  the  imprint  of  a  kiss  upon  her  brow. 

"  Jabez,"  said  she,  smiling  through  her  tears,  "your 


>72  THE    PARTING    WORD. 

Affections  may  be  sorely  tried  in  the  great  city,  and 
'srnptation  will  beset  your  path,  but  my  prayers  shall  be 
ffered  for  you,  and  the  word  I  would  have  you  remem- 
ber above  all  others  is  FIDELITY.  Let  us  be  faithful  to 
aeh  other.  Remember,  '  fidelity.' ': 

He  kissed  the  lips  that  uttered  the  word  and  vowed  to 
cemember. 

Fidelity  !  It  is  a  strong  word,  and  embraces  in  its 
meaning  the  whole  duty  of  man.  All  of  love,  truth, 
honesty,  is  comprised  in  its  signification.  Faithful ! 
Of  course  he  would  be  faithful ;  and  how  could  he  be 
otherwise  ?  In  the  ardor  of  his  young  love,  it  seemed 
,he  easiest  thing  in  the  world. 

And  now  he  is  in  the  city,  a  wondering  and  admiring 
ttranger ;  and,  after  considerable  difficulty,  a  compositor 
m  a  morning  paper.  Day  by  day,  and  night  by  night, 
ligh  up  under  the  eaves,  is  he  toiling,  breathing  the 
fetid  and  smoky  atmosphere  of  the  printing-office.  He 
Misbecome  "the  slave  of  the  lamp  —  he  and  all  the 
other  slaves."  Night,  which  brings  rest  to  the  world, 
brings  no  rest  to  him.  The  holy  Sabbath,  with  its  sweet 
influences,  brings  no  solace  —  for  him  Christ  has  risen 
in  vain.  The  click  of  types  at  midnight  is  heard,  like  a 
death-watch,  denoting  the  flight  of  time.  Telegraphs, 
steamboats  and  railroads,  combine  for  his  discomfort. 
The  reckless  and  the  unhappy  are  his  companions,  and 
grace  struggles  in  vain  to  grow  in  an  atmosphere  impreg- 
nated with  lamp-smoke  and  sin.  It  is  a  sacrifice  of 
liberty  and  health,  of  body  and  soul,  for  money. 

Jabez  has  a  strong  hope  in  him,  which  sustains  him 
He  hears  the  ribald  jest,  often  aimed  at  what  he  regarda 


THE    PARTING    WORD.  273 

most  sacred ;  he  sees  the  irreverence  which  bad  men  show 
for  holy  things.  At  first  he  is  shocked ;  but  the  ingrain 
generosity  of  his  associates  leads  him  to  think  less  unfa- 
vorably of  their  lack  of  morals,  and  he  laughs  at  what  at 
first  gave  him  pain. 

"  FIDELITY  !  "  was  it  a  voice  at  his  side  that  uttered 
the  cabalistic  word  in  his  ear,  and  that  sunk  down  into  his 
heart  1  That  word  saved  him.  It  was  a  good  angel  en- 
shrined in  his  memory  that  came  to  warn  him  of  danger 
and  exhort  him  to  faithfulness,  and  his  feelings  became 
again  pure  and  fresh  as  when  he  left  their  inspiration. 

"  Come,  Jabez  !  "  said  a  brother  typo,  '"t  is  Saturday ; 
for  this  day,  at  least,  we  are  free ;  and  now,  my  boy, 
what  say  you  to  having  a  good  time  ?  Let 's  go  round 
and  see  the  folks-." 

And  with  a  laugh  on  his  lip,  and  the  fire  of  fun  in  his 
eye,  and  a  sense  of  freedom  in  his  mind,  he  went  with 
his  good-natured  persuader  —  plunged  with  him  into  dens 
where  rum  flowed  like  water,  and  the  hoarse  shout  of 
revelry  smote  his  ear  with  the  discordance  of  the  bottom- 
less pit.  It  needed  no  friendly  warning  to  save  him,  for 
his  spirit  shrank  instinctively  at  the  sights  he  saw,  and 
the  sounds  he  heard.  One  after  another  of  these  places 
he  visited,  and  each  time  with  a  dimming  sense  of  their 
abominations  ;  the  light  of  conscience  became  foggy  in 
the  dun  of  tobacco  smoke,  and  sensibility  was  blunted  in 
the  frequency  of  the  vile  exhibitions  that  met  his  gaze. 

FIDELITY  !  That  word  came  again  to  him,  and  the 
scales  fell  from  his  eyes.  The  demon  had  lost  his 
power,  and  the  serpent  was  revealed  in  all  his  hideous/- 


274  THE   PARTING    WORD. 

From  pleasure  to  pleasure,  through  temptation  after 
temptation,  in  the  dance,  in  the  saloons,  in  the  theatre, 
his  secret  monitor  came  to  him  like  the  voice  of  a  fire- 
bell,  and  his  spirit  grew  strong  under  its  admonition. 
In  seasons  of  quiet  and  peaceful  enjoyment,  too,  the 
word  came  to  him  approvingly,  and  his  soul  received  it 
as  a  beautiful  token  of  unbroken  love,  and  hope  revived. 

It  must  be  confessed,  I  think,  that  never  yet  was 
printer  attended  by  so  faithful  a  monitor,  or  by  one  that 
was  half  so  well  heeded. 

And  now  sickness  pressed  upon  Jabez,  and  he  thought 
he  was  going  to  die.  I  believe  that  it  always  happens 
that  people  in  love,  or  homesick  people,  are  more  fearful 
of  death  than  others.  It  is  your  jolly  debtor,  who, 
honest  man,  hopes,  by  paying  the  debt  of  nature,  to  pay 
all  the  rest  he  owes,  that  is  ready  to  die.  The  poor 
printer  was  sad,  and  "  Fidelity"  was  heard  but  faintly 
in  his  dread  to  go.  He  was  delirious.  His  mind  wan- 
dered amid  early  scenes  again  with  Susan  Bray.  Her 
voice  he  heard  in  his  dreams  exhorting  him  to  fidelity. 
Again  they  stood  together  upon  the  old  door-step  in 
Patny,  and  he  was  pouring  into  her  listening  ear  the 
story  of  his  temptations  and  his  support,  and  received 
from  her  sweet  lips  the  deserved  approval  of  his  faith- 
fulness. The  meeting-house  came  up  in  his  dream  of 
bliss,  and  within  its  walls,  robed  in  white,  stood  Susan 
Bray,  and  by  her  side  himself,  arrayed  in  the  bravery 
of  a  holiday  suit,  a  happy  bridegroom.  A  new  Star 
arose  in  Patny,  boasting  innumerable  subscribers,  who 
all  paid  in  money,  and  not  in  buckets  and  apple-sauce, 
himself  its  editor,  and  himself  the  most  important  man 


CHE    PARTING   WORD.  275 

in  the  village,  and  whispered  about  as  he  walked  along 
the  street.  Alas !  't  was  but  the  vagary  of  a  diseased 
mind,  soon  dispelled  by  the  officious  obtrusion  of  a  spoon 
with  medicine  beneath  his  nose.  Day  by  day  he  was 
watched  almost  hopelessly.  At  last,  however,  a  youth- 
ful constitution  triumphed  over  disease  and  medicine,  a 
fearful  odds,  and  he  became  conscious.  Bright  eyes 
were  beaming  over  him ;  blue  eyes,  suffused  with  tears 
and  affection  !  Reader,  can  you  guess  whose  eyes  they 
were  ?  Right.  You  have  guessed  right  the  first  time. 
They  were  Susan  Bray's,  as  bright  and  true  as  when, 
two  years  before,  he  had  left  them  at  Patny,  though  they 
had  shed  many  tears  over  his  prostrate  form  during  his 
unconsciousness,  —  as  if  he,  or  any  printer  that  ever 
lived,  were  worth  such  solicitude  1 

The  first  word  they  both  pronounced  was  "Fidelity,"' 
and  their  eyes  proclaimed  the  fidelity  of  their  hearts. 

It  is  now  about  four  years  since  the  foregoing  scene 
was  enacted,  and  the  other  day  I  received  No.  1  of  a 
new  paper  called  the  Freeman's  Star,  from  Patny,  edite^ 
and  printed  by  Jabez  Bee.  A  letter  accompanied  the 
paper,  containing  a  request  that  I  should  visit  him  at 
home,  and  that  Susan,  Ms  wife,  would  be  delighted  to 
see  me.  As  soon  as  spring  opens  I  shall  go. 

Success  to  the  printers,  say  I ;  and  Avhen  temptation  is 
besetting  them,  as  it  too  often  is,  may  they  have  a  voice 
to  speak  to  their  generous  souls,  exhorting  them  to 
"Fidelity." 


276 


ON     GHOSTS. 


ON   GHOSTS. 

you  believe  in  ghosts, 
Mrs.  Partington  ?  "  it  was 
asked  of  the  old  lady,  some- 
what timidly. 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  re- 
plied she,  ' '  as  much  as  I 
believe  that  bright  fulmi- 
nary  there  will  rise  in  the 
yeast  to-morrow  morning,  if 
we  live  and  nothing  happens. 
Two  apprehensions  have 
sartinly  appeared  in  our 
own  family.  Why,  I  saw 
nay  dear  Paul,  a  fortnight 

before  he  died,  with  my  own  eyes,  jest  as  plain  as  I  see 
you  now ;  and  though  it  turned  out  arterwards  to  be  a 
rosebush  with  a  night-cap  on  it,  I  shall  always  think,  to 
the  day  of  my  desolation,  that  it  was  a  forerunner  sent 
to  me.  'T  other  one  came  in  the  night,  when  we  were 
asleep,  and  carried  away  three  candles  and  a  pint  of 
spirits  that  we  kept  in  the  house  for  an  embarkation. 
Believe  in  ghosts,  indeed !  I  guess  I  do,  and  he  must 
be  a  dreadful  styptic  as  does  n't !  "  and  she  piously  turned 
to  the  part  of  th«  Book  relating  to  the  witch  of  Endor. 


STAGE    COMPANIONSHIP.  277 


STAGE   COMPANIONSHIP. 

SOME  folks  are  always  talking,  and  some,  with  pro- 
voking taciturnity,  are  always  saying  nothing,  to  use  a 
left-handed  expression.  We  like  a  good  talker,  intelli- 
gent, quick,  ready,  —  whose  happy  conversational  power 
tends  to  make  the  rough  way  of  life  pleasant ;  and  we 
have  a  corresponding  dread  of  one  who  drones,  and  hes- 
itates, and  speaks  only  by  monosyllables,  and  then  as  if 
he  took  out  each  word  and  looked  at  it  before  he  dared 
to  utter  it.  It  is  amusing  at  times  to  observe  two  of 
these  human  opposites  come  in  contact.  —  to  hear  the 
lively  laugh  and  playful  jest  of  the  one,  as  he  rattles  on, 
like  a  fast  horse  over  the  paving-stones,  striking  a  spark 
at  every  step,  and  the  sombre  glumness  of  the  other, 
who,  hardly  deigning  to  smile,  sits  tongueless,  brooding 
over  his  thoughts,  like  a  hen  at  midnight.  Put  the  two 
in  a  stage-coach  or  rail-car,  to  modernize  a  little,  and  see 
how  the  former  will  shine  ;  while  the  latter,  poor  dum- 
my, though  perhaps  morally  and  intellectually  worth  six 
of  the  former,  sits  unnoted,  or  regarded  only  as  some 
cheap  fellow  of  no  consequence. 

We  were  one  of  three  who  one  day,  long  ago,  occupied 
seats  with  the  driver  of  a  stage,  during  a  fifty  mile  ride, 
and  one  of  the  company  was  the  merriest  fellow  we  ever 
saw.  He  told  stories,  sung  songs,  and  laughed,  till  all 
rang  again,  with  our  accompaniment,  by  the  "  dim 
woods "  that  we  passed,  and  over  the  hills  that  we 
24 


278     MR.  SMITH'S  DESIRE  TO  INSTRUCT  HIS  BOY. 

climbed.  It  was  a  jolly  ride,  surpassing  that,  we  think, 
of  the  renowned  Mr.  Pickwick,  where  the  very  correct 
Bob  Sawyer  occupied  an  equally  outside  position  with 
our  illustrious  selves.  We  were  somewhat  inclined  to  be 
merry  in  those  days,  may  Heaven  forgive  us !  and  that 
ride  was  an  event  to  be  remembered  life-long.  The 
whole  party  enjoyed  it,  save  one,  and  he  was  the  most 
woebegone-looking  customer  we  had  ever  seen.  Joking 
wouldn't  move  him  ;  he  was  impenetrable  to  any  missile 
of  that  kind,  and  there  he  sat  with  a  countenance  fifty 
miles  long,  — 't  is  fair  to  reckon  it  by  the  length  of  the 
road,  —  gazing  very  sadly  at  the  right  ear  of  the  nigh 
horse.  Our  funny  companion  at  last  bent  his  whole  battery 
upon  the  silent  man,  and  tried  to  draw  him  out.  It  was 
an  entire  failure,  and  the  joker,  a  little  chagrined  at  the 
other's  imperturbability,  asked  him,  in  a  somewhat  hasty 
tone,  why  the  (something)  he  did  n't  talk.  Without 
moving  his  eyes  from  the  contemplation  of  the  horse's 
ear,  he  opened  his  head,  and  these  words  dropped  out: 
"  What '  s— the— use— of —talking  ?  " 


"  MY  son,"  said  Mr.  Smith  to  his  little  boy  who  was 
devouring  an  egg,  —  it  was  Mr.  Smith's  desire  to  instruct 
his  boy,  —  "  My  son,  do  you  know  that  chickens  come 
out  of  eggs?" 

"Ah,  do  they,  father?"  said  young  Hopeful;  "I 
thought  that  eggs  came  out  of  chickens  !  " 

The  elder  Smith  drew  back  from  the  table  sadly,  and 
gazed  upon  his  son,  then  put  on  his  hat  and  went  to  his 
work. 


MR.  SLOW  UPON  MORAL  WORTH.       279 


.  SLOW  UPON   MORAL  WORTH. 

' '  'BiMELECH,  you  must  try  and  be  a  good  man  —  I  'vfi 
always  taught  you  that.  Never  let  your  name  be  at  a 
discount  on  'change;  always  mind  and  take  up  your 
notes,  'cause  credit 's  everything  in  the  world.  What 's 
a  man  without  credit?  He  a'n't  nothing  —  he  a'n't  no- 
where. For  a  man  to  be  without  credit  is  about  as  bad 
as  poverty,  and  a  man  without  money  or  credit  is  to  be 
despised.  Avoid  such  people  as  you  would  the  small- 
pox. Look  at  your  gran'ther.  'Bimelech ;  there 's  a 
sample  for  you  to  follow.  He  always  acted  right.  He 
never  owed  a  dollar,  and  never  lost  one,  'cause  he  was 
shrewd.  He  never  run  round,  lending  his  money  to 
folks  —  not  he.  Morgidges  did  it ;  and  people  used  to 
love  to  have  him  foreclose  on  'cm,  'cause  he  did  it  so 
good-naturedly.  He  was  a  good  man.  His  name  was 
always  right  on  'change.  He  could  always  get  money, 
let  it  be  ever  so  hard.  You  never  catched  him  squander- 
ing his  money  on  charitable  humbugs,  and  encouraging 
porpoises  —  not  he  ;  and  when  he  died  he  was  worth  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  the  ships'  colors  were 
histed  half-mast,  'cause  a  good  man  had  fell  in  Israel !  " 
'Bimelech  must  improve  under  such  training,  and  is  n't 
it  the  world's  teaching  continually  1 


280  MR.    SLOW    OFF   SOUNDINGS. 


MR.  SLOW  OFF   SOUNDINGS. 

"THE  airth  is  round,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Slow,  im- 
pressively, taking  an  apple  from  Abimelech's  hand,  and 
holding  it  up  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  "  like  a 
napple,  and  revolves  on  its  own  axle-tree  round  the  sun, 
jest  as  reg'lar  as  any  machine  you  ever  see.  The  airth 
is  made  up  of  land,  and  water,  and  rocks,  besides  vege- 
tation and  trees,  and  things  growing.  The  mountings 
upon  the  service  of  the  earth  are  very  high,  —  more  'n 
a  half  a  mile,  I  should  think ;  some  of  'em  are  called 
white  mountings,  because  they  a'n't  black.  The  ocean 
is  very  deep,  and  some  folks  thinks  it  hasn't  got  no  bottom. 
This  is  all  gammon.  Everything  has  got  a  bottom, 
my  son.  The  reason  they  can't  find  it  is  'cause  the 
world  is  round.  They  throw  their  sinker  overboard,  and 
it  goes  right  through  one  side,  like  this"  —  (thrusting 
his  knife  through  the  apple),  —  "  and  hangs  doAvn  under- 
neath, jest  so.  Of  course  they  can't  find  a  bottom." 

Mr.  Slow  gave  his  boy  the  apple,  and  turned  round, 
much  satisfied  with  himself. 


"  WHAT  is  a  waxed  end?"  asked  one  not  posted  in 
the  vocabulary  of  Lynn. 

"  A  waxed  end,"  was  the  reply,  "  is  the  end  that 
receives  the  whacks." 


AN    EDITOR    A    LITTLE    HEATED.  281 


AN  EDITOR  A  LITTLE  HEATED. 

COPY  !  quotha?  copy! — -with  the  thermometer  at  96°. 
What  an  unconscionable  dog  it  is,  to  be  sure,  to  worry 
one  so.  Not  one  line,  so  help  us  Stebbings  !  —  not  one 
line.  Avaunt !  quit  our  sight !  for  the  heat  of  the  day 
is  fused  into  our  spirit,  and, 

"  By  that  sword  which  gleams  above  us," 

annihilation  awaits  you,  if  you  dare  provoke  us  with  your 
importunity.  The  idea  of  writing  at  such  time  is  abom- 
inable, and  no  reasonable  devil  would  insist  on 't.  A  vile 
knave  thou  art  at  best,  with  thy  swart  and  lank  jaws 
there  distended,  bawling  for  copy.  Grin  away,  you  waif 
from  the  lake  of  Tartarus,  whose  burning  flood  ne'er 
yielded  a  more  hideous  whelp  for  our,  or  the  world's, 
torment.  We  tell  thee,  swart  minion,  vile  Mercury  of 
inordinate  jours,  that  copy  thou  canst  not  have.  What ! 
write  when  the  atmosphere,  like  hot  lava,  wreathes  the 
brow  and  sticks  there  with  the  tenacity  of  molten  pitch, 
and  burns  and  burns  upon  the  brain  like  the  thirst  for 
revenge,  or  the  seething  scald  of  impending  pecuniary 
obligation?  Away,  caitiff!  and  "  tell  thy  masters  this, 
and  tell  them,  too,"  that  we  will  see  them  hanged  ere 
we  will  write  a  line  for  them  to-day.  Vamose  !  mizzle  ! 
scatter  !  or,  by  St.  Paul,  temper,  outraged,  shall  take  to 
itself  form,  and  launch  its  thunders  on  thy  devoted  head  ! 
But,  stay.  This,  the  ebullition  of  our  wrath,  is  copy, 
poor  at  best,  —  give  it  'em. 
24* 


282  DON'T  CUT  IT,  MISS. 


DON'T   CUT   IT,  MISS. 

"DON'T  you  think  my  dress  much  too  long ? "  asked 
Seraphina,  the  youngest  of  the  seven,  of  old  Roger. 

"  Don't  cut  it,  miss,  even  if  it  is.  I  beg  of  you  as  a 
friend  not  to  cut  it,"  said  the  old  man  seriously. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  inquired  she,  timidly. 

"  Because,  miss,  I  rememher  a  difficulty  of  my  own 
once,  under  like  circumstances,  which  was  a  source  of 
much  shame  to  me.  Overtaken  by  a  severe  shower  far 
from  home,  I  was  terribly  drenched,  and  a  new  pair  of 
sheepskin  inexpressibles  that  I  wore,  tied  close  at  the 
knee,  as  was  the  fashion  then,  received  the  dripping 
streams  from  my  body,  and,  distended  like  a  bad  case  of 
the  dropsy,  fell  below  my  calves ;  like  your  dress,  they 
were  too  long,  and  I  cut  them  off  at  the  knee.  But  the 
warm  sun  came  out,  the  sheepskin  contracted ;  inch  by 
inch  I  felt  it  creeping  up  my  legs ;  and,  by  the  time  I 
got  home,  you  may  be  sure  I  was  a  sight  to  behold. 
Don't  cut  it,  miss,  unless  you  feel  perfectly  sure  it  will 
not  shrink  more." 

There  was  a  smile  at  the  old  gentleman's  delicacy  in 
the  matter,  but  there  could  be  no  fear  of  danger,  and 
they  didn't  see  how  the  cases  were  parallel  at  all. 


TWENTY-NINE   CATS.  283 


TWENTY-NINE   CATS. 

"  SCAT  !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Partington,  from  the  head 
of  the  stairs,  as  the  noise  of  an  interesting  quadruped  of 
the  cat  species  in  the  kitchen  below  met  her  ears, 
"Scat!  I  say!" 

She  listened  to  ascertain  the  result  of  her  command ; 
but  the  noise  was  resumed,  and  the  little  kitchen  echoed 
again  with  the  feline  music,  —  spitting,  and  mewing,  and 
growling  with  the  concatenation  of  malignity  in  every 
note  of  it  that  reached  her  as  she  leaned  over  the  ban- 
ister. 

"Gracious  Heaven!"  cried  she,  "I  should  think 
there  was  twenty  of  'em;  what  shall  I  do?  Scat!" 
she  screamed  again,  and  the  noise  redoubled ;  indeed,  it 
appeared  to  her  excited  fancy  that  a  reinforcement  had 
arrived,  and  were  all  in  full  chorus,  and  now  the  crash 
of  crockery  added  to  her  fear.  She  dared  not  go  down, 
for,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  she  feared  a  spiteful  cat. 
It  became  suddenly  still  in  a  moment  or  so,  and  she 
ventured  down  stairs.  A  broken  plate  was  on  the  floor, 
with  traces  of  molasses  upon  the  fragments,  and  Ike 
very  demurely  sat  behind  the  stove,  counting  his  mar- 
bles. 

"Has  there  been  any  cats  in  here,  Isaac?"  said  the 
kind  old  lady,  looking  anxiously  round  the  room. 

"  Twenty-seven,  twenty-eight,  twenty-nine  " — 

"  Where,  for  goodness  sake,  did  twenty-nine  cats  come 


284         OLD  ROGER'S  SIGNS  OF  MATRIMONY. 

from?"  asked  she;  "but  I  knowed  there  was  a  good 
many  of  'em." 

"And  there's  a  twoser,"  continued  Ike,  still  count- 
ing, "  and  a  Chinese." 

"  Anything  like  the  Mai  tees,  Isaac  ?  "  inquired  she. 

"  I  mean  marbles,  aunt,"  said  Ike. 

"And  I  mean  cats,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  se- 
verely. 

It  was  a  scene  for  a  painter,  —  Coffin  should  do  it 
up,  —  her  eyes  alternated  between  the  broken  plate  and 
the  boy,  as  if  pondering  the  mystery  of  the  sounds  she 
had  heard,  and  Ike  wiped  the  molasses  from  his  mouth 
on  his  sleeve.  Did  n't  the  molasses  on  the  plate  explain 
it  ?  He  had  to  take  a  lecture,  you  may  depend,  on  the 
certainty  of  roguish  boys  being  awfully  punished  for 
plaguing  the  aged,  and  he  had  to  read  the  story  aloud, 
before  he  went  to  bed  that  night,  of  the  boys  who  were 
eaten  up  by  the  she-bears. 


A  COACH  containing  a  young  man  and  woman  with 
one  trunk  on  behind,  —  behind  the  coach  is  meant,  —  is 
pleasingly  suggestive  of  matrimony. 

"Yes,"  says  old  Roger,  sardonically,  "but  a  half 
dozen  young  ones  and  seven  bandboxes  are  much  more 
suggestive,  — there  's  no  mistaking  signs  like  those." 


MRS.    PARTINGTON    OX    TOBACCO.  285 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  ON   TOBACCO. 

"  I  KNOW  that  tobacco  is  very  dilatorious,"  said  Mrs. 
Purtington,  as  Mr.  Trask  sat  conversing  with  her  upon 
the  body  and  soul  destroying  nature  of  the  weed.  "  I 
know  that  tobacco  is  dilatorious,  especially  to  a  white 
floor;"  and,  taking  out  her  snuff-box, — the  broad  one 
with  the  picture  of  Napoleon  on  the  cover,  —  she  tapped 
it,  and  offered  a  pinch  to  her  guest. 

"  Snuff  is  just  as  bad,"  said  he,  laying  his  finger 
gently  on  her  arm  and  speaking  earnestly —  "  snuff  in- 
jures the  intellect,  affects  the  nerves,  destroys  the  memo- 
ry ;  it  is  tobacco  in  its  most  subtle  form,  and  the  poison 
appears  as  the  devil  did  in  Eden,  under  a  pleasing 
exterior." 

She  gazed  upon  him  a  moment  in  silence. 

"  I  know,"  said  she,  "it  has  a  tenderness  to  the  head  ; 
but  I  couldn't  do  without  it,  it  is  so  auxiliarating  to 
me  when  I  am  down  to  the  heel ;  and  if  it  is  a  pizen,  as 
you  call  it,  I  should  have  been  killed  by  it  forty  years 
ago.  Good  snuff,  like  good  tea,  is  a  great  blessing,  and 
I  don't  see  how  folks  who  have  no  amusement  can  get 
along  without  it." 

The  box  was  dropped  back  to  its  receptacle,  and  her 
friend  took  his  leave,  sighing  that  she  would  persist  in 
shortening  her  days  by  the  use  of  snuff,  and  stopped  a 
moment  to  lecture  Ike,  who  was  enjoying  a  sugar  cigar 
upon  the  front  door-step. 


286       GUITAR  IN  THE  HEAD. — A  SINGULAR  FACT. 


GUITAR  IN   THE   HEAD. 

MRS.  PARTINGTON'S  neighbor.  Mrs.  Sled,  complained 
one  morning  of  a  ringing  in  her  ears. 

"  It  must  be  owing  to  the  guitar  in  your  head,  dear," 
said  the  old  lady.  She  knew  every  sort  of  human  ail- 
ment, and,  like  the  down-east  doctor,  was  death  on  fits. 
' '  I  know  what  ringing  in  the  ears  is, ; '  continued  she  ; 
"  for  my  ears  used  to  ring  so  bad,  sometimes,  as  to  wake 
Paul  out  of  his  sleep,  thinking  it  was  an  alarm  of 
fire ! " 

There  was  no  doubt  she  was  telling  what  was  true,  but 
there  were  some  that  questioned  it  in  a  gentle  cough.  We 
have  n't  a  doubt  of  its  truth. 


A  SINGULAR  FACT. 

•'TiiEM  are  very  fat  critters,"  remarked  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  as  she  stood  viewing  a  yoke  of  splendid  steers. 

"  Yes 'm,"  replied  the  farmer,  "and,  would  you  be- 
lieve it,  mum,  they  were  fattened  on  nothin'  but  oat 
straw,  and  it  had  n't  been  threshed,  neither." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  said  she,  and,  for  a  moment, 
doubt  of  the  probability  of  the  story  occupied  her  mind  ; 
it  was  but  for  a  moment.  "  Well,  I  never  !  "  continued 
she,  and  turned  aside  to  admire  the  beauties  of  a  new 
cider-press. 


A   HIT   AT   THE   TIMES.  287 


A  HIT  AT  THE  TIMES. 

"  BRED  by  steam-power  !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Partington, 
as  she  beard  Isaac  commence  a  paragraph  about  making 
bread  by  steam.  She  laid  down  her  work,  placed  her 
handc>  upon  her  lap,  and  looked  broadly  at  the  boy 
throagh  her  specs.  "  Bred  by  steam  !  "  said  she ;  "  what 
wih  the  world  do  next  ?  I  wonder  if  this  is  one  of  the 
labor-saving  inventions,  now.  But  I  see  what  it  will  end 
i  a.  People  are  fast  enough  now,  in  all  conscience ;  but 
«rhat  will  they  do  when  they  come  to  be  bred  by  steam- 
power,  if  they  act  according  to  their  bringing  up  ?  Ah, 
[saac,  people  may  be  faster  now,  but  they  are  no  better 
than  they  used  to  be  !  " 

Isaac  explained  that  it  was  a  new  mode  of  making 
bread.  She  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment,  when, 
taking  a  thumb  and  finger  full,  she  put  the  cover  on 
the  box,  resumed  her  knitting,  and  told  Isaac  to  go 
on,  which  he  did. 


288 


THE   POOR   PRINTER. 


THE   POOR  PRINTER. 

HE  poor  printer  —  poor  in 
purse,  we  mean — reduced 
to  penury  and  rags,  and 
asking  alms  about  the 
printing-offices,  is  a  mel- 
ancholy sight.  There  is 
enough  in  one  such  spec- 
tacle to  give  any  man  the 
' '  do  able-breasted  horrors ' ' 
for  a  whole  day.  There  is 
a  most  woe-begone,  miser- 
able hopelessness  in  him 
as  he  asks  your  aid  in  the  name  of  his  profession,  —  of 
printing,  —  the  noble  art  that  he,  perhaps,  may  have 
honored  in  his  better  days.  Bad  luck,  or  worse  liquor,  — 
often  symptoms  of  the  latter  predominate,  —  combined 
with  a  want  of  self-respect,  have  reduced  him  to  his 
present  condition.  He  is  no  common  beggar.  There  is 
a  something  in  his  tone,  as  he  asks  for  your  aid,  that  tells 
plainly  it  is  not  his  true  vocation ;  that  he  is  forcing  his 
nature  into  a  most  unnatural  current  in  asking  for  assist- 
ance. He  has  none  of  the  small  lies  that  appear  ready- 
framed  on  the  lips  of  common  beggars.  No  volcanoes 
have  poured  their  burning  lavas  on  his  head  or  other 
property;  no  furious  tornadoes  have  swept  away  his 
earthly  hopes  and  homestead,  and  driven  him  forth  a 


THE    POOR    PRINTER.  289 

wanderer ;  no  overwhelming  tide  has  pursued  him  relent- 
lessly in  other  lands  to  give  him  a  fortune  here.  But  he 
stands  before  you,  and  his  appearance  pleads  for  him. 
He  looks  like  a  low  case,  dusty  and  pied,  or  a  form 
picked  for  sorts  and  squabbling  under  the  accumulation 
of  indulged  dust.  There  is  persuasion  in  his  seedy  coat, 
buttoned  to  the  chin  —  a  coat  in  which  a  dim  gentility 
struggles  to  overcome  the  poverty-clouds  or  cobwebs  that 
mar  it ;  there  is  persuasion  in  the  hat,  that  venerable  tile, 
whose  form  of  three  fashions  past  indicates  certainly  as 
an  almanac  the  date  of  the  declension  of  his  golden  days ; 
there  is  persuasion  in  his  familiar  look  at  things,  and  the 
air  that  says,  "This  is  nothing  new  to  me — I've  seen 
all  this  before;"  there  is  persuasion  much  more  in  the 
tone  of  the  voice  that  asks  the  gift,  as  if  it  were  a  loan, 
or  the  return  of  some  money  in  your  keeping  for  him. 
There  is  no  servility  in  his  asking,  and  his  story  is  a 
direct  recital  of  his  troubles.  He  is  sick,  has  a  disorder 
in  his  head,  his  wife  is  dead,  his  hope  has  all  fled,  for  days 
has  n't  seen  a  bed,  nor  had-  one  mouthful  of  bread,  and  is 
quite  famish-e</.  What  a  recital !  and  you  cry,  "Nuf 
ced  !  "  and  the  quarter  comes  at  once  from  your  yielding 
purse.  What  a  comfortable  reflection  it  is,  as  we  place 
the  coin  in  his  extended  hand  !  and  it  forces  home  a  ques- 
tion of  great  moment,  drawn  from  a  contingency  that  grows, 
some  think,  out  of  the  nature  of  the  art,  "  Whose  turn 
will  come  next?  "  and  the  richest  of  the  journeymen  feels 
more  humble  as  he  ponders  on  what  may  happen. 

25 


290  MR.  SLlMV    ON    GRAVE   TOPICS. 


MR.  SLOW   ON   GRAVE  TOPICS. 

"  'BiMELECH,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Slow,  shaking  his 
head  with  oracular  and  owl-like  profundity,  "it  isn't 
well  to  know  too  much,  my  boy ;  your  father  never  did — 
he  know'd  too  much  for  that.  Thoughts  is  perplexin', 
and  the  human  mind,  'Bimelech,  is  too  precious  a  thing 
to  be  wore  out  with  too  much  friction.  Don't  abuse  the 
gifts  of  nater,  my  son,  'cause  nater's  one  of  'em,  she  is. 
Don't  inwestigate  anything  new,  my  boy,  'cause  there  ;s 
a  thousand  old  things  of  more  consekence  to  look  arter  — 
the  first  of  which  is  number  one.  New  notions  perplexes 
the  mind,  dear  —  there  's  full  enough  fools  in  the  world 
who  like  to  look  arter  sich  things,  without  your  troublin' 
your  precious  head  about  'em  —  't  would  n't  be  a  cent  of 
benefit  to  you.  Call  'em  all  humbug  and  moonshine, 
and  them  as  believes  'em  lunatics  and  scoundrels,  and 
that  '11  save  you  a  good  many  discussions,  and  give  you 
a  character  for  dignity  and  prudence ;  and  prudent  folka 
make  money.  Phelosophy  and  scions,  and  them  things, 
is  humbugs,  and  everything  is  humbug  but  money.  Mind, 
I  tell  ye."  Mr.  Slow  ceased,  overcome  by  his  own  elo- 
quence. 


PAYING   AN    OLD    DEBT.  291 


PAYING  AN   OLD   DEBT. 

WORKING  out  a  debt  is  often  called  "  working  a  dead 
horse,"  and  we  think  not  inaptly,  the  more  especially 
when  a  man  ia  poor,  with  a  family  depending  upon  him 
for  support ;  then  a  pickaxe  becomes  a  weary  thing,  and 
every  shovel-full  of  dirt  weighs  four  times  as  much  as 
when  the  heart  of  the  laborer  is  cheered  by  the  hope  of 
the  dollar  ahead.  But  it  is  well  to  pay  one's  debts ; 
though  it  is  far  better  not  to  owe  anything.  —  a  piece  of 
advice  that  Saint  Paul  utters  with  great  earnestness,  as 
if  he  were  practically  sensible  of  the  disadvantage  of 
indebtedness. 

A  man  who  had  run  up  a  long  score  at  a  shop  for 
liquor,  cigars,  and  other  creature  comforts,  found  himself 
utterly  unable  to  pay  a  stiver  of  it.  In  vain  was  he  urged 
to  pay  the  bill,  and  in  vain  was  he  threatened  if  he 
did  n't ;  he  had  n't  any  money,  —  the  true  secret  of  his 
getting  in  debt  in  the  first  place, — and  the  creditor  gave 
it  up.  At  last  he  thought  he  would  compromise  the 
matter,  and  let  the  man  work  the  debt  out.  The  cred- 
itor had  a  large  pile  of  wood  in  his  barn,  several  cords 
of  it,  nicely  sawed  and  split,  and  he  forthwith  set  the 
debtor  at  work  to  throw  the  wood  into  the  street  and 
then  pile  it  back  again,  at  the  rate  of  a  shilling  an  hour, 
until  the  whole  debt  should  be  wiped  out.  The  man 
took  hold  with  a  will,  and,  in  a  short  time  the  wood  was 
all  in  the  street ;  then  it  went  back  with  equal  celerity, 


292  PAYING   AN    OLD    DEBT. 

and  then  out  again  and  then  in ;  everybody  wondering 
what  it  could  mean.  Some  charitably  intimated  that  he 
was  crazy,  and  others,  equally  charitable,  said  he  was 
drunk.  He  toiled  on  thus  the  whole  day,  throwing  the 
wood  back  and  forth,  but  every  hour  seemed  full  sixty 
minutes  longer  than  its  predecessor,  as  he  watched  the 
clock  on  the  old  church  in  the  neighborhood.  He  was 
working  a  dead  horse,  and  it  was  hard  making  him  go. 
But  the  longest  road  must  have  an  end,  and  the  hour 
neared  when  the  labor  and  debt  would  cease  together, 
and,  as  the  hammer  of  the  clock  told  the  hour  of  his 
release,  the  freed  man  threw  the  last  stick  of  wood  into 
the  street  with  a  shout  of  triumph.  The  shout  brought 
the  owner  of  the  wood  to  the  door,  who  found  his  late 
debtor  putting  on  his  coat  to  go  away. 

"  Halloo  !  "  said  he,  "  you  are  not  going  away  without 
putting  the  wood  back  again,  are  you?  " 

"I  '11  put  it  back  again  for  a  shilling  an  hour,"  said 
the  man. 

The  proprietor  of  the  wood  saw  that  he  had  been  done, 
but  good-naturedly  told  his  late  debtor  to  go  ahead  and 
put  it  back.  He  went  about  it ;  but,  strange  to  say,  it 
took  him  just  three  times  as  long  to  put  it  back  as  it  did 
to  throw  it  out. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  having  been  asked  what  the  con- 
sequences would  be  if  an  irresistible  should  come  in 
contact  with  an  immovable  body,  replied  that  she  thought 
one  or  t'  other  of  'em  would  get  hurt. 


OPERATIC    REBUKE.  203 


OPERATIC   REBUKE. 

"I  CAN'T  catch  the  malady! "  said  Mrs.  Partmgton,  at 
the  opera,  as  she  stood  upon  tiptoe,  in  the  lobby  of  the 
Howard  Athenaeum,  in  vain  attempting  to  look  over  the 
heads  before  her.  She  had  received  a  ticket,  but  it 
secured  nothing  but  an  outside  position,  and  she  had 
gone  wandering  round  like  a  jolly  planet,  without  any 
particular  orbit.  Ike  was  in  the  gallery,  eating  a  pen- 
ny's worth  of  pea-nuts,  and  throwing  the  shells  into  the 
parquet  below.  "  I  can't  catch  the  malady  of  the  up- 
roar, and  more  'n  half  the  words  are  all  Dutch  to  me. 
This  is  the  first  opiatic  performance  I  ever  went  to,  and 
if  I  can't  get  a  seat,  I  can't  stand  it  to  come  agin." 

She  said  it  very  firmly.  As  she  was  going  down  the 
stairs,  a  young  gentleman,  with  curly  hair,  reached  over 
the  banisters,  and  blandly  informed  her  that  he  could 
furnish  her  with  a  seat.  She  turned  her  benevolent 
spectacles,  and  face  attached,  towards  him,  and  told  him 
it  was  rather  late,  after  the  evening  had  half  gone,  to 
think  of  politeness. 

It  was  a  picture !  The  young  curly  head  bending  over 
the  banister,  and  the  spectacles,  and  the  black  bonnet, 
and  the  widow  of  Corporal  Paul,  on  the  stairs  looking  up. 
It  was  sublime  ! 

25* 


294  "  SMITH    & 


"SMITH   &  •" 

IT  gives  us  a  mournful  feeling  every  time  the  above 
sign,  on  a  business  street,  meets  our  eye.  It  is  simply 
a  white  pine  sign,  with  the  letters  upon  it  done  in 
black.  There  is  nothing  peculiar  in  its  construction ; 
but  the  blank  termination,  with  the  ampersand,  —  once 
the  connecting  character  of  a  prosperous  firm,  maybe, 
but  now  seeming  to  exist  only  with  reference  to  some 
future  contingency,  —  denotes  separation,  and  thus,  as 
indicating  this,  the  sign  becomes  an  important  ' '  sign  of 
the  times."  The  name  that  formerly  graced  it,  though 
no  longer  needed  there,  is  still  to  be  traced  through  the 
white  coat  spread  over  it,  as  if  yet  asserting  its  claim  to 
consideration.  "Alas!  poor  ghost!"  It  is  better  to 
let  Smith  have  it  all  to  himself. 

What  caused  the  separation?  Did  the  "Jones," 
whom  we  see  dimly  through  the  white  lead,  which  covers 
him  like  a  shroud,  "shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil,"  and 
leave  Smith  there  alone,  like  a  boy  tilting  on  one  end  of 
a  plank  ?  Had  Jones  a  wife  and  children  ;  and  do  they 
yet  look  up  wistfully  at  the  sign  as  they  pass  it  by,  as  if 
with  a  sort  of  undefined  hope  in  their  minds  that  Jones 
may  be  in  there  somewhere  now  1  Or  do  they  weep  as 
they  gaze  upon  it  at  its  suggestion  of  their  own  loneli- 
ness ?  Or  has  the  widow  forgotten,  long  ago,  the  man 
under  the  mould,  and  another  Jones,  with  another  name, 
taken  his  place  in  the  domestic  firm  ?  Or  does  she  yet 


"  SMITH   &  .''  295 

stand,  like  the  ampersand  on  the  sign,  beckoning  some 
other  Jones  to  write  his  name  on  the  blank  space  in  her 
heart,  and  begin  anew  1 

It  may  have  been  a  separation  in  strife,  where  uncon- 
geniality  of  mind,  temper,  and  habits,  engendered  bitter- 
ness, and  the  hours  flew  by  freighted  with  mutual  curses 
upon  the  ill-starred  union  of  "Smith  &  Jones,"  and 
separation  was  the  result.  How  happy  were  they,  may- 
be, at  the  beginning,  as  they  sat  down  to  talk  over  their 
business  schemes,  while  Hope  held  her  candle  for  them 
as  they  ciphered  out  a  path  to  fortune  through  the 
intricacies  of  trade,  —  talking  as  lovers  talk ;  never 
dreaming,  like  lovers,  that  the  elements  might  exist  in 
themselves  for  the  destruction  of  their  hopes  and  happi- 
ness !  We  can  fancy  the  bitter  days,  the  reproaches, 
abuse,  and  violence,  that  ended  in  the  painter's  brush 
upon  the  sign,  and  the  announcement  in  the  Post,  of 
"  dissolution."  But  why  is  that  ampersand  left  there? 
Does  Smith,  with  his  bitter  experience,  want  another 
Jones  to  torment  him  ? 

Perhaps  Smith  &  Jones  were  well-meaning  men,  who 
tried  the  firm  on  and  found  it  unable  to  carry  double, 
and  then  divided,  good-naturedly,  and  are  now  carrying 
on  trade,  each  by  himself,  and  each  happy  in  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  good  qualities  of  the  other ;  each  ready  to 
endorse  the  other's  note ;  each  having  for  the  other  a 
cordial  salutation  when  meeting,  and  "How  are  ye, 
Smith?"  and  "How  are  ye,  Jones?"  sounding  heart- 
ily, as  if  they  meant  something  more  than  the  words 
usually  imply,  and  inquiring  about  each  other's  business 
with  as  much  earnestness  as  formerly,  when  together ; 


296         OLD  ROGER  IN  AN  OMNIBUS. 

each  referring  to  that  time  with  satisfaction,  and  speak- 
ing of  "my  old  partner  Smith"  or  "  Jones,"  with 
affection  and  respect.  It  is  some  comfort  to  conjure  up 
a  picture  like  this,  and  we  regret  that  "  Jones"  should 
be  "cut  off"  in  his  goodness. 

"  Smith  &  !  "     We  don't  like  to  see  it,  any 

how.  If  "  Smith  "  should  choose  to  let  his  name  stand 
there  forever,  as  now,  he  may  do  so  if  he  can,  —  nobody 
can  hinder  him,  or  will  want  to.  But  Smith  should  not 
allow  that  ampersand  to  remain  there,  as  if  hinting  at 
something  it  is  afraid  to  say,  —  trembling  upon  the  verge 
of  it,  and  holding  back  without  venturing  upon  it.  The 
bond  is  broken  that  united  the  twain,  and  why  should 
Mr.  Smith  offend  our  chaste  eye  by  leaving  that  amper- 
sand to  drag  along  behind  his  name,  now  there  is  no  use 
for  it,  like  the  end  of  a  broken  chain  beneath  a  cart  ? 


"  PULL  away,  ma'am,  pull  away !  "  said  old  Roger, 
in  the  omnibus,  as  he  saw  a  heavy  lady  dragging  vigor- 
ously at  the  check-string;  "  another  such  a  jerk  as  that 
and  he  must  come  through." 

"  Through  where?  "  asked  she  sharply. 

"  Why,  through  the  hole  there,  to  be  sure ;  you 
were  trying  to  get  him  through  it,  was  n't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wasn't;  I  was  only  stopping  the  horses,  Mr. 
Impudence." 

"0,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "was  that  all?  excuse 
me." 

She  got  out,  and  the  'bus  moved  on. 


A    WOMAN    THAT    ONE    COULD    LOVE.  297 


A  WOMAN  THAT  ONE  COULD  LOVE. 

"  Now,  there  is  a  woman  that  one  could  love,"  said 
old  Roger,  delightedly,  as  he  saw  a  figure,  arrayed  in 
the  full  feather  of  fashion,  in  a  window  in  Washington 
street.  "A  long  life  could  be  spent  very  quietly  in 
such  company ;  no  quarrelling  for  precedence ;  no  jeal- 
ousy ;  no  strife  of  any  kind ;  no  teasing  for  dress  and 
follies,  till  one's  purse-strings  ache  in  sympathy  with 
aching  heart-strings,  at  unchecked  extravagance.  Even 
I  could  love  such  a  woman  as  that." 

"  Perhaps  you  could,"  responded  a  sweet  voice  at  his 
side  ;  ' '  but  would  it  love  you  back  again,  think  you  ? 
There  would  be  no  return  for  your  investment  of  affec- 
tion here  in  this  heartless  thing,  this  mere  frame ;  you 
should  turn  your  attention  to  something  worthy  of  your 
love,  where,  for  a  small  outlay  of  affection,  a  tenfold 
return  would  be  made  you  in  domestic  joy." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  old  bachelor,  "  where  shall  I  find 
this?  " 

But  the  beautiful  eyes  that  met  his  proved  how  easily 
the  question  might  be  answered  ;  and,  with  a  melancholy 
step,  he  passed  along.  He  was  more  a  bachelor  from 
habit  than  from  choice,  after  all. 


298 


INTRODUCING   THE   WATER. 


INTRODUCING  THE  WATER. 

QLESSme ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Partington, 
coming  in  out  of 
breath,  and  drop- 
ping down  into  a 
chair,  like  a  jolly 
old  kedge  anchor, 
at  the  same  time 
fanning  herself  with 
an  imaginary  fan. 
She  did  not  say 
"  Bless  me,"  be- 
cause she  was  in 
want  of  any  partic- 
ular blessing  at  that  time ;  it  was  merely  an  ejaculation 
of  hers,  expressive  of  deep  emotion.  "  Bless  me  !  "  said 
she,  "I  don't  see  why  the  Water  Commissionaries  were  so 
much  worried  and  fretted  about  introducing  the  Cochitu- 
ate  water  for ;  I  think  it  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
to  get  acquainted  with.  Look  at  that  bonnet,  now," 
holding  up  the  antiquated,  but  well-preserved  bit  o'  crape, 
dripping  with  watery  drops,  like  the  umbrella  of  Aqua- 
rius ;  "  look  at  that  bonnet,  now !  ruined  to  all  tents  and 
porpoises  by  the  pesky  water-works.  Introduce  it,  in- 
deed !  "  continued  she,  ironically,  looking  severely  at  the 
wrecked  article  in  her  hand,  "  'ta'n't  no  use  of  introducing 


INTRODUCINU    THE    WATER.  299 

an  acquaintance  that  makes  so  free  with  you  at  first 
sight." 

She  arose  to  hang  up  her  bonnet,  when  Ike,  who  was 
hanging  upon  the  back  of  her  chair,  fell  heavily  against 
the  window,  and  thrust  the  rear  portion  of  his  person 
through  four  panes  of  glass. 

"0,  Isaac!"  said  she,  "you'll  be  the  ruination  of 
me.  If  I  was  rich  as  Creosote  I  could  n't  stand  it." 

Isaac  gathered  himself  from  among  the  fragments  of 
glass,  and  seemed  quite  tickled  with  an  idea  that  he  could 
sell  the  pieces,  in  conjunction  with  a  reserve  of  old  iron 
and  half  of  the  clothes-line  and  three  junk  bottles,  to 
raise  funds  for  the  Fourth  of  July. 


300      RATHER  FUNNY.  —  ON  ONE  STRING. 


RATHER  FUNNY. 

OLD  ROGER  was  standing  in  State  street,  and  saw  an 
Irishman  rolling  a  keg  of  specie  from  his  cart  to  the 
institution  for  which  it  was  intended. 

"  There,"  said  the  old  fellow  to  a  foreign  gentleman 
who  was  standing  by  him,  "  there  you  see  the  benefit  of 
our  free  institutions ;  there  is  a  man  who  came  to  this 
country  six  months  ago,  as  poor  as  poor  could  be,  and 
now,  you  see,  he  is  actually  rolling  in  riches !  " 

He  said  this,  and  turned  round,  very  red  in  the  face, 
and  struck  his  cane  several  times  violently  on  the  side- 
walk, and  waited  for  his  friend  to  explode.  Hearing  no 
sound  of  cachinnation,  he  turned  and  found  the  gentleman 
vainly  endeavoring  to  decipher  the  emblems  on  the 
Merchants'  Exchange.  He  evidently  had  n't  understood 
the  joke. 


ON   ONE   STRING. 

"  THE  Prayer  o,f  Moses  executed  on  one  string !  "  said 
Mrs.  Partington.  "Praying,  I  s'pose,  to  be  cut  down. 
Poor  Moses!"  sighed  she;  "executed  on  one  string! 
Well,  I  don't  know  as  ever  I  heard  of  anybody's  being 
executed  on  two  strings,  unless  the  rope  broke ;"  and 
she  went  on  wondering  how  it  could  be. 


SEEKING    THE   LIGHT.  301 


SEEKING  THE   LIGHT. 

"  I  DECLARE,  I  don't  know  what  to  think  on  it! "  said 
Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  looked  intently  into  the  water- 
pail.  The  attitude  was  peculiar,  and  the  iron-bowed 
specs  were  on  duty,  like  a  sentry  on  a  bridge,  keeping  a 
bright  look-out  over  the  water. 

"  I  can't  see  into  it." 

This  was  wrong  if  we  take  it  literally,  because  the  wa- 
ter was  as  pure  and  transparent  as  her  own  benevolence. 

"  I  can't  see  into  it,  and  the  more  I  preponderate  upon 
it.  the  more  I  'm  in  a  bewilderness.  How  Mr.  Paine  can 
make  light  of  water  is  more  than  I  can  see, — I  can't 
throw  no  light  on  it.  I  know  it 's  made  of  some  sort  of 
gin.  My  poor  Paul's  head  used  to  be  made  light  by  gin 
and  water,  but  it  did  n't  burn,  as  they  say  this  will." 

Her  listeners  stood  hatless,  almost  breathless,  as  her 
voice  came  up  through  her  cap-border,  like  the  steam 
from  around  the  cover  of  a  wash-boiler,  while  Ike  put 
the  experiment  to  a  practical  test  by  pouring  a  dipper  of 
water  into  the  stove. 
26 


302  SMELLING  VIRTUOUS. — THE    PKESS. 


JUDGING  VIRTUE  BY  ITS  SMELL. 

'•IT  smells  virtuous,"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
smelt  of  the  hartshorn-bottle  that  had  long  lain  away  in 
an  old-fashioned  high  closet,  before  which  the  old  lady 
stood,  on  a  tall  chair,  exploring  the  dark  interior  of  the 
receptacle  for  "  unconsidered  trifles."  "It  smells  vir- 
tuous." We  had  often  heard  of  the  peculiar  odor  of 
goodness,  that  rises  like  frankincense  amid  an  atmos- 
phere of  vice  ;  and  here  was  a  practical  application  that 
attested  the  justness  of  the  term.  It  was  sublime  !  and 
the  figure  standing  there  on  the  high  chair,  like  Truth 
on  a  pedestal,  with  the  specs,  and  the  close  cap,  and  the 
blue  yarn  stockings,  formed  a  subject  for  a  sculptor, 
poorer  than  which  had  immortalized  hundreds. 


ABUSES   OP  THE  PRESS. 

"THE  printing-press  is  a  great  steam-engine,"  said 
Mrs.  Partington;  "but  I  don't  believe  Dr.  Franklin 
ever  invented  it  to  commit  outrages  on  a  poor  female 
woman  like  me.  It  makes  me  say  everything,  Mrs. 
Sled ;  and  some  of  the  things  I  know  must  have  been 
said  when  I  was  out,  for  I  can't  remember  'em;"  and  she 
dropped  three  stitches  in  her  excitement.  "  They  ought 
to  think,"  continued  she,  "  that  them  who  makes  sport 
of  the  aged  don't  never  live  to  grow  up." 


M  0  r  s  i;      ii  r  \  r  i  \ 


MOUSE-HUNTING.  303 


MOUSE-HUNTING; 

AN   INCIDENT  IN   THE   LIFE   OF  MRS.    PARTINGTON. 

IT  was  midnight,  deep  and  still,  in  the  mansion  of 
Mrs.  Partington,  —  as  it  was,  very  generally,  about 
town,  —  on  a  cold  night  in  March.  So  profound  was 
the  silence  that  it  awakened  Mrs.  P.,  and  she  raised 
herself  upon  her  elbow  to  listen.  No  sound  greeted  her 
ears,  save  the  tick  of  the  old  wooden  clock  in  the  next 
room,  which  stood  there  in  the  dark,  like  an  old  chrone, 
whispering  and  gibbering  to  itself.  Mrs.  Partington  re- 
lapsed beneath  the  folds  of  the  blankets,  and  had  one 
eye  again  well-coaxed  towards  the  realm  of  dreams,  while 
the  other  was  holding  by  a  very  frail  tenure  upon  the 
world  of  reality,  when  her  ear  was  saluted  by  the  nibble 
of  a  mouse,  directly  beneath  her  chamber  window,  and 
the  mouse  was  evidently  gnawing  her  chamber  carpet. 

Now,  if  there  is  an  animal  in  the  catalogue  of  creation 
that  she  dreads  and  detests,  it  is  a  mouse  ;  and  she  has 
a  vague  and  indefinite  idea  that  rats  and  mice  were  made 
with  especial  regard  to  her  individual  torment.  As  she 
heard  the  sound  of  the  nibble  by  the  window,  she  arose 
again  upon  her  elbow,  and  cried  "  Shoo  !  Shoo  !  "  ener- 
getically, several  times.  The  sound  ceased,  and  she 
fondly  fancied  that  her  trouble  was  over.  Again  she 
laid  herself  away  as  carefully  as  she  would  have  lain 
eggs  at  forty-five  cents  a  dozen,  when,  —  nibble,  nibble, 
nibble !  —  she  once  more  heard  the  odious  sound  by  the 


304  MOUSE-HUNTING. 

window.  "Shoo!"  cried  the  old  lady  again,  at  the 
same  time  hurling  her  shoe  at  the  spot  from,  whence  the 
Bound  proceeded,  where  the  little  midnight  marauder  was 
carrying  on  his  depredations. 

A  light  burned  upon  the  hearth,  —  she  couldn't  sleep 
without  a  light,  —  and  she  strained  her  eyes  in  vain  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  tormentor  playing  about  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  room.  All  again  was  silent,  and  the 
clock,  giving  an  admonitory  tremble,  struck  twelve. 
Midnight !  and  Mrs.  Partington  counted  the  tintinabulous 
knots  as  they  ran  off  the  reel  of  Time,  with  a  saddened 
heart. 

Nibble,  nibble,  nibble!  —  again  that  sound.  The 
old  lady  sighed,  as  she  hurled  the  other  shoe  at  her 
invisible  annoyance.  It  was  all  without  avail,  and 
"shooing"  was  bootless,  for  the  sound  came  again  to 
her  wakeful  ear.  At  this  point  her  patience  gave  out, 
and,  conquering  her  dread  of  the  cold,  she  arose  and 
opened  the  door  of  her  room  that  led  to  a  corridor,  when, 
taking  the  light  in  one  hand,  and  a  shoe  in  the  other, 
she  made  the  circuit  of  the  room,  and  explored  every 
nook  and  cranny  in  which  a  mouse  could  ensconse  him- 
self. She  looked  under  the  bed,  and  under  the  old  chest 
of  drawers,  and  under  the  washstand,  and  "  shooed" 
until  she  could  "shoo  "  no  more. 

The  reader's  own  imagination,  if  he  has  an  imagina- 
tion skilled  in  limning,  must  draw  the  picture  of  the  old 
lady  while  upon  this  exploring  expedition,  "accoutred 
as  she  was,"  in  search  of  the  ridiculous  mouse.  We 
have  our  own  opinion  upon  the  subject,  and  must  say, 
—  with  all  due  deference  to  the  years  and  virtues  of 


MOUSE-HUNTI.Vti.  305 

Mrs.  P.,  and  with  all  regard  for  personal  attractions 
very  striking  in  one  of  her  years,  —  we  should  judge 
that  she  cut  a  very  queer  figure,  indeed. 

Satisfying  herself  that  the  mouse  must  have  left  the 
room,  she  closed  the  door,  deposited  the  light  upon  the 
hearth,  and  again  sought  repose.  How  gratefully  a 
warm  bed  feels,  when  exposure  to  the  night  air  has 
chilled  us,  as  we  crawl  to  its  enfolding  covert !  How 
we  nestle  down,  like  an  infant  by  its  mother's  breast, 
and  own  no  joy  superior  to  that  we  feel,  —  coveting  no 
regal  luxury  while  revelling  in  the  elysium  of  feathers  ! 
So  felt  Mrs.  P.  as  she  again  ensconced  herself  in  bed. 
The  clock  in  the  next  room  struck  one. 

She  was  again  near  the  attainment  of  the  state  when 
dreams  are  rife,  when,  close  by  her  chamber-door,  out- 
side she  heard  that  hateful  nibble  renewed  which  had 
marred  her  peace  before.  With  a  groan  she  arose,  and, 
seizing  her  lamp,  she  opened  the  door,  and  had  the  sat- 
isfaction to  hear  the  mouse  drop,  step  by  step,  until  he 
reached  the  floor  below.  Convinced  that  she  was  now 
rid  of  him  for  the  night,  she  returned  to  bed,  and 
addressed  herself  to  sleep.  The  room  grew  dim,  in  the 
weariness  of  her  spirit,  the  chest  of  drawers  in  the  corner 
was  fast  losing  its  identity  and  becoming  something  else ; 

in  a  moment  more nibble,  nibble,  nibble !  again 

outside  of  the  chamber-door,  as  the  clock  in  the  next 
room  struck  two. 

Anger,  disappointment,  desperation,  fired  her  mind 
with  a  new  determination.  Once  more  she  arose,  but 
this  time  she  put  on  a  shoe  !  —  her  dexter  shoe.  Omin- 
ous movement !  It  is  said  that  when  a  woman  wets  her 
26* 


COG  MOUSE-HUNTING. 

finger  fletis  had  better  flee.  The  star  of  that  mouse's 
destiny  was  setting,  and  was  noAV  near  the  horizon.  She 
opened  the  door  quickly,  and,  as  she  listened  a  moment, 
she  heard  him  drop  again  from  stair  to  stair,  on  a  speedy 
passage  down. 

The  entry  below  was  closely  secured,  and  no  door  was 
open  to  admit  of  his  escape.  This  she  knew,  and  a 
triumphant  gleam  shot  athwart  her  features,  revealed  by 
the  rays  of  the  lamp.  She  went  slowly  down  the  stairs, 
until  she  arrived  at  the  floor  below,  where,  snugly  in  a 
corner,  with  his  little  bead-like  black  eyes  looking  up  at 
her  roguishly,  was  the  gnawer  of  her  carpet,  and  the 
annoyer  of  her  comfort.  She  moved  towards  him,  and 
he,  not  coveting  the  closer  acquaintance,  darted  by  her. 
She  pursued  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  entry,  and 
again  he  passed  by  her.  Again  and  again  she  pursued 
him,  with  no  better  success.  At  last,  when  in  most 
doubt  as  to  which  side  would  conquer,  Fortune,  perched 
upon  the  banister,  turned  the  scale  in  favor  of  Mrs.  P. 
The  mouse,  in  an  attempt  to  run  by  her,  presumed  too 
much  upon  former  success.  He  came  too  near  her 
upraised  foot.  It  fell  upon  his  musipilar  beauties,  like 
an  avalanche  of  snow  upon  a  new  tile,  and  he  was  dead 
forever  !  Mrs.  Partington  gazed  upon  him  as  he  lay 
before  her.  Though  she  was  glad  at  the  result,  she 
could  but  sigh  at  the  necessity  which  impelled  the  vio- 
lence ;  but  for  which  the  mouse  mighlThave  long  contin- 
ued a  blessing  to  the  society  in  which  he  moved. 

Slowly  and  sadly  she  marched  up  stairs, 

With  her  shoe  all  sullied  and  gory  ; 
And  the  watch,  who  saw  't  through  the  front  door  squares, 

Told  us  this  part  of  the  story. 


STAR-GAZING.  807 

That  mouse  did  not  trouble  Mrs.  Partington  again 
that  night,  and  the  old  clock  in  the  next  room  struck 
three  before  sleep  again  visited  the  eyelids  of  the  relict 
of  Corporal  Paul. 


STAR-GAZING. 

OUT  beneath  the  starry  heavings  Mr.  Slow  took  his 
son,  Abimelech,  to  point  out  to  him  —  to  read  to  him 
from  the  broad  page  of  nature  —  the  wonders  of 

"  The  spacious  furnishment  on  high," 

as  he  called  it. 

"  All  these  'ere  stars,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  S.,  pointing 
up  to  the  studded  sky  above  them,  "that  you  see  up 
there,  stationary  and  unmovable,  marchin'  along  in  sub- 
lime grande'r,  and  winking  at  the  earth  with  their  jolly 
yeller  eyes,  like  gold  eagles,  them  are  called  fixed 
stars  ; '  and  "  — 

"  But  what 's  that,  father  ?  "  said  young  Abimelech, 
as  a  meteor,  like  a  racer,  darted  across  the  southerly 
sky. 

Mr.  Slow  was  prompt  with  his  answer. 

"  That,"  said  he,  "I  guess,  is  one  of  'em  that  ?s  got 
unfixed." 


308         MRS.  PARTINGTON    ON    MOUNT    VESUVIUS. 


MRS.    P.   ON   MOUNT  VESUVIUS 


o  there 's  been  another  rupture  of 
Mount  Vociferous !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  put  down  the 
paper  and  put  up  her  specs.  "  The 
paper  tells  all  about  the  burning 
lather  running  down  the  mountain,  but  it  don't  tell  us 
how  it  got  afire.  I  wonder  if  it  was  set  fire  to.  There 
are  many  people  full  wicked  enough  to  do  it,  or,  perhaps, 
it  was  caused  by  children  playing  with  frictious  matches. 
I  wish  they  had  sent  for  our  firemen ;  they  would 
soon  have  put  a  stop  to  the  raging  aliment ;  and  I  dare 
say  Mr.  Barnacle,  and  all  of  'em,  would  have  gone,  for 
they  are  what  I  call  real  civil  engineers." 

There  was  a  whole  broadside  of  commendation  of  the 
fire  department  in  the  impressive  gesture  accompanying 
her  words.  "Time  and  space "  for  a  moment  became  anni- 
hilated, and  imagination  figured  the  city  engines  pouring 
their  subduing  streams  upon  the  flames  of  Vesuvius, 
and  "Hold  on,  seving!"  "Break  her  down,  twelve!" 
rising  above  the  vain  roarings  of  the  smothering  crater. 


THE    PIC-NIC.  309 


THE  PIC-NIC: 

A     GRAND     DOMESTIC     DRAMA, 

IN   MANY   ACTS. 

In  which  are  detailed  the  Fun  and  Drawbacks  attending  a  Pleasure 
Excursion  in  the  town  of  Sozzleton. 

PERSONS  IN  THE  DRAMA. 

Mr.  Homespun  — Who  has  something  to  say  to  all,  and  about  everybody. 

Jemima  Short  —  A  sweet  little  country  rose. 

Mr.  Blisby  —  A  gentleman  from  the  city. 

Miss  Primrose  —  A  refined  lady  of  thirty-five,  full  of  sentiment  and  some  snuff. 

Mr.  Brindle  —  A  bachelor  of  fifty-eight  and  a  justice  of  the  peace. 

Miss  Pidgin  —  A  bird  too  tough  for  sentiment. 

Auxiliaries,  Horses,  Pigeon  Pie,  IfC.,  by  the  company. 

The  morn  is  bright  in  Bozzleton,  and  kindly  beams  the  sun, 
And  spreads  his  choicest  rays  around  as  if  he  dreamt  of  fun  ; 
The  girls  are  up  and  wide  awake,  the  lads  are  spruce  and  gay, 
For  a  pic-nic  party  is  arranged  for  this  bright  summer  day. 

AND  won't  we  have  a  time  of  it?  Just  see  the  bag 
of  dough-nuts  that  Jemima  Short  has  thrown  out  of  the 
window  into  the  wagon !  And  there  go  three  chickens, 
and  four  pies,  and  a  jug  of  cider.  Goodness  gracious. 
Jemima !  You  are  an  angel  of  a  provider,  you  are ! 
You  don't  mean  to  put  us  on  a  regiment  to-day,  do  you  1 
You  look  like  an  airthly  goddess,  too,  in  your  new  pink 
calico.  I  vow,  it  looks  first-rate  —  I  took  it  for  chin- 
chilli  a  rod  off. 

Jemima.  — "I  don't  know  —  I  don't  think  much  of  it, 
but  folks  tells  me  it 's  becoming.  Miss  Jeems,  the  milli- 
ner, got  the  pattern  from  the  city,  and  - 


310  THE     PIC-NIC. 

How  de  do,  Miss  Short  1     Gwine  to  the  pic-nic  ? 

Mrs.  S.  (with  a  cold  in  her  head.)  —  "  No,  guess  not ; 
don't  feel  smart,  'zactly,  and  the  old  man 's  got  the 
romantic  affection  in  his  leg,  and  can't  go  nuther ;  but 
Mima  is  gwine ;  she  has  had  her  hair  in  papers  a  whole 
week  to  make  her  look  pretty." 

Jemima.  —  "  Why,  mother  !  how  you  do  talk  !  But 
here  they  come —  0,  what  a  host  of  'em  !  How  proud 
Betsey  Babb  feels  of  her  new  dress !  I  guess  some  folks 
can  look  full  as  well  as  some  folks ;  and  there  's  that 
everlasting  old  maid,  Miss  Pidgin ;  how  I  hate  her  with 
her  scraggy  neck  and  long  tongue  !  And  there  's  Patty 
Sprigg's  city  beau  —  0,  I  would  n't  be  her  to  be  seen 
with  such  a  fright !  " 

The  wagons  packed  with  eatables  go  groaning  o'er  the  road, 
The  long  carts  filled  with  girls  and  beaus  show  an  attractive  load, 
And  laughter  rules  the  pleasant  hour,  and  eyes  shine  gay  and  bright, 
The  only  kind  of  stars  that  show  as  well  by  day  as  night. 

Laughter !  guess  you  'd  think  so  to  hear  it.  Now  the 
cart  settles  down  into  a  rut.  "  Dear  me,"  says  Miss 
Tibbs,  "we  shall  all  be  upsot,  tipsy  turvy;  do  hold  on 
to  me  !  "  and  then  everybody  thinks  they  must  be  held 
on  to ;  and  everybody  else  is  trying  to  hold  on  to  some- 
body. 0,  how  frightened  the  city  beauty  is  !  "  Do  you 
apprehend  any  danger  of  a  tergiversation  1 "  "  No,"  says 
Jo  Hays,  "  the  slack  men  look  arter  them  things,  and 
everybody  's  noclated  for  it." 

Female  Voice.  —  "Be  still,  won't  you !  0,  you  satan ! 
see  how  you  have  tumbled  my  collar  with  your  pesky 
nonsense ;  and  my  face  burns  like  fire-coals.  Right  be- 
fore a  city  gentleman  too ;  0,  for  shame  !  " 


THE    PIC-NIC.  811 

City  Gent.  — ;'  Upon  my  honor,  miss,  I  was  entirely 
oblivious  to  any  impropriety." 

"  0,  'twas  n't  very  improper  either,  he,  he,  he;  only 
such  things  should  n't  be  done  publicly,  you  know." 

Miss  Pidgin. —  "If  Susan  Fry  is  n't  setting  on  Sam 
Sled's  knees,  I  a' n't  a  living  sinner !  Such  conduct  I 
must  think  improper.  /  never  was  guilty  of  such  indis- 
cretion, /never  was ! " 

Boys  singing  — 

"  There  's  fun  in  a  country  cart, 

And  life  on  a  dusty  road, 
AVhere  mirth  warms  every  heart, 

And  pleasure  finds  abode  : 
The  town  may  boast  of  its  joys, 

Its  racket  and  its  din, 
But  give  a  haunt  away  from  its  noise, 

Some  quiet  nook  within." 

Far  from  the  busy  din  of  town,  in  some  secluded  grove, 

The  happy  party  sit  them  down,  or  unrestricted  rove  ; 

All  austere  rules  that  bind  the  world  are  here  thrown  far  aside, 

And  revelling  in  mirth's  bright  beam,  how  fleet  the  moments  glide  ! 

Arm-in-arm  under  the  shady  trees  they  now  wander, 
picking  posies  or  bright  berries  —  and  such  fun  !  Miss 
Primrose  smiles  languidly  a  sort  of  sky-blue  benignity 
upon  old  Brindle,  the  bachelor. 

Miss  Primrose,    (sentimentally.)  —  "How  delight- 
fully those  pines  sigh  in  the  gentle  breeze,  like  the  soft 
music  of  love  in  the  ear  of  youth  !  " 
Old  Brindle.  —  "  Yes'm,  so  it  does." 
Miss  P.  —  "0,  I  do  so  love  the  pines  !  " 
Old  B.  —  "  They  're  better  in  May,  mum,  when  the 
sliver  is  thick  and  creamy.     Come  out  here  then,  marm 


312  THE     PIC-NIC. 

out  with  your  jack-knife,  throw  away  your  tobacco,  cut 
out  a  square,  and  sliver  up  the  tree  —  allers  sliver  up, 
marm  —  some  slivers  down.  Then's  when  you'd  like  the 
pines,  mum." 

Miss  P.  —  "  That 's  an  entirely  new  aspect ;  I  meant 
their  romantic  beauty." 

Old  B. —  "Yes'm — beautiful  wood,  very;  worth 
four  dollars  a  cord  in  Boston." 

Here  come  Patty  Sprig  and  the  musty-choked  man 
from  the  city. 

Cit.  — "  Miss  Spwig,  how  delightfully  ruwal  it  is 
here  !  Always  thought  I  should  like  to  live  among  the 
beauties  of  Nachure.  It 's  a  great  pity  we  can't  have 
anynachure  in  town,  a  great  pity.  I've  heard  of  some 
human  nachure  round  there,  but  never  saw  any  of  it." 

Patty.  —  "I  should  think  they  might  bring  it  in  by 
pipes,  as  they  did  the  Cochituate." 

Cit.  —  "  Are  those  gwound-nuts  1 " 

Patty.  —  "  No,  dear  me,  no ;  don't  eat  'em ;  they  're 
toadstools." 

Thus  we  go  on,  chatting,  walking, 

Voices  ringing  with  the  pines, 
Nothing  our  gay  fancies  balking, 
Doing  all  our  heart  inclines. 

Now  on  the  green  and  beauteous  sod  the  varied  viands  spread, 
And  appetite  shall  wait  on  health,  and  wit  its  influence  shed  ; 
The  social  tongue  with  music  rife  blends  with  the  platter's  noise, 
As  earth's  rude  jarring  interferes  with  its  harmonious  joys. 

"  Here 's  tongue,  and  ham,  and  sausages,  and  pumkiri 
pie,  and  cheese.  Mercy,  what  a  bill  of  fare  !  Miss 
Peewit  shall  I  help  you  to  a  piece  of  tongue?  "  -"No. 


THE     PIC-NIC.  318 

thank  you,  I  have  enough  of  my  own.  But  I  '11  trouble 
you  for  a  piece  of  the  chicken."  —  "  Chicken,  did  you 
say  ?  From  his  toughness  I  should  say  he  was  a  grand- 
father to  thousands  ! " 

"  Pass  the  pigeon  yonder,  will  you? " 

"What,  the  old  maid  ?" 

• 

"  No,  no,  the  pie." 

"There's  the  plate  —  the  pigeon  is  unavoidably  de- 
tained." 

Miss  Pidgin.  —  "I'd  thank  people  who  use  my 
name  to  speak  so  that  I  can  hear;  I  don't  like  to  be 
backbitten." 

"  We  were  speaking  of  pigeon  pie,  mem" —  something 
more  tender  (Aside). 

"  Say,  Tom,  what  have  you  got  in  the  dish  there  ?  " 

"  Pickled  grasshoppers,  I  should  think.  Will  you  have 
some  1 " 

"Miss  Primrose,  do  allow  me  to  help  you;  here's 
some  ham,  delicate  as  your  own  nature,  ma'am." 

Miss  P.  —  "I  declare,  you  are  quite  complimentary ! 
Comparing  my  nature  with  smoked  hog  !  " 

"  Will  Mr.  Blisby,  the  gentleman  from  the  city,  favor 
us  with  a  song  ?  Silence,  '  ye  gentlemen  and  ladies  all 
that  grace  this  famous '  pic-nic ;  Mr.  Blisby  is  going  to 
sing." 

Mr.  B.  —  "  I  'd  rather  be  excused  ;  but  though  I  am 
not  exactly  in  tune,  I  '11  endeavor  for  the  occasion." 

Mr.  Blisby  sings : 

"  My  love  is  fair,  0,  she  is  fair  ! 

Her  lips  are  red,  her  eyes  like  sloe, 
A  golden  glory  is  her  hair. 

Falling  o'er  sheuMers  white  as  snow 

27 


314  THE     PIC-NIC. 

"  And  when  her  eyes  upon  me  turn, 
And  burn  with  radiance  divine, 
My  ardent  gaze  encounters  hern, 
The  same  as  hern  encounters  mine." 

Child,  yelling.  —  ' '  Mother,  give  me  a  nuther  pieth 
ov  pie  !  " 

Mother.  —  "  Hush,  my  darling,  there  a'n't  any." 
Boy.  —  "I  thay  there  ith ;  I  wanth  a  pieth  ov  pie !  " 

"  0,  such  a  mingling, 
Of  talking  and  jingling, 
The  noise  and  glee 
Sound  merrily, 
And  set  our  ears  a  tingling." 

A  dance  !  a  dance  !  and  gleefully  a  set  is  forthwith  planned, 
A*fiddle  most  mysteriously  has  happened  here  at  hand  ; 
And  here  beneath  the  dark  tree's  shade,  with  leaves  and  berries  crowned, 
Each  happy  lad  and  laughing  maid  whirl  in  the  dance  around. 

"  Go  it,  my  top  sawyer  on  the  pussy-gut !  Work  your 
elbows  lively,  and  we  '11  put  her  through  by  daylight ! " 
"  0,  dear !  I  'm  all  of  a  perspiration  with  sweat.  How 
slippery  it  is  under  foot ! "  "It  a'n't  slippery  anywheres 
else."  "  I  swow  to  man,  there 's  Bill  Nutter  and  Jemima 
Short  both  down  !  Up  and  try  it  again,  clumsys !  " 

Miss  Primrose.  —  "  How  these  old  woods  echo  with 
the  music,  Mr.  Brindle,  like  the  Arcadian  groves,  with 
the  dulcet  notes  of  the  Satires  ! " 

Mr.  B.  —  "I  never  heerd  of  'em ;  I  guess  they  never 
was  in  these  woods  —  they  never  was  that  I  can  remem- 
ber." 

"  I  declare,  there  'a  Mr.  Blisby  dancing  like  an  ani- 


THE    PIC-NIC.  315 

mated   bean-pole.     Ha  !    ha  !    ha  !    he  's   on  all-fours 
Now  all  he  wants  is  a  tail." 

Then  moving  to  the  tuning  of  the  fiddle  and  the  bow, 
How  sparkles  every  eye  with  mirth  as  round  and  round  we  go  I 
No  ball-room  artistes  now  are  here  to  circumscribe  our  sport, 
And  Nature  smiles  approvingly,  for  here  she  holds  her  court 

A  lake  romantic  lying  near  tempts  to  its  cooling  vale, 
And  tiny  boats  in  swift  career  across  its  bosom  sail  ; 
And  waving  handkerchiefs  respond  in  answer  to  the  song 
That,  rising  from  the  venturers,  is  borne  the  breeze  along. 

"  Jump  into  the  boat,  Patty;  not  the  least  danger  in 
the  world  of  its  tipping  over."  —  "  0,  my  !  I  've  got  my 
shoe  all  satiated  with  water.  I  shall  get  my  death  a 
cold."  —  "  You  've  got  your  foot  in  it  this  time,  that  's  a 
fact." 

Mr.  Blisby.  —  "Is   there   any  danger   of  sea-sick- 


"  Now  just  see  that  boat  —  how  she  scoots  it  !  I  vow 
if  Patty  Sprig  has  n't  got  hold  of  the  bow  oar,  and  pulls 
away  like  a  little  satan.  -  If  I  thought  that  spindle-shank 
from  the  city  was  going  to  have  that  gal,  I  'd  cut  his 
eternal  —  acquaintance,  I  would.  I  e'enamost  said 
throat,  but  that  would  be  manslaughter;  and  I  don't 
see  how  it  could  be,  neither,  for  killing  such  a  thing  as 
he  is." 

A  Voice.  —  "  Some  love  to  roam 

O'er  the  dark  sea's  foam, 
Where  the  shrill  winds  whistle  free." 

"Well,  they  do.  Hallo!  here's  Jim  Sly.  What 
have  you  got  in  that  bottle,  old  fellow  ?  Have  n't  seen 
you  to-day  afore." 


316  THE    PIC-NIC. 

Jim  Sly  (drunk).  —  "I've  got  some  c-c-cough- 
drops  to  c-c  -cure  the  sea-sickness  with  —  a  little  rum 
t-t-t-tea  with  s-s-some  sperrit  in  it  to  k-k-keep  it." 

Sally  Twist,  his  sweetheart.  —  "  You  Jim  Sly,  you 
drunken,  miserable  fellow,  you — you  sot — you  brute — 
you  individual  —  you  —  you  —  you  Jim  Sly" 

Jim.  —  "Go  it,  S-S-Sal,  and  I  ;11  hold  yer  b-b-bonnet ' 
What  yer  goin'  to  d-d-do  'bout  it  ?  " 

Sally.  —  "  You  '11  see  when  we  get  home,  you  sot  — 
you  brute  —  you  vagabone  !  " 

Sam.  —  "  Let  her  lean,  elder  — 

'  Wine  cures  the  gout,  boys, 
The  colic,  and  the  ' 

sea-sickness.     Who  cares  for  S-S-  Sail  ?  " 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  Jemima,  why  Miss  Pidgin  yonder 
is  like  forty-nine  big  apples  ?  " — "  No,  I  'm  sure  I  can't, 
unless  it's  'cause  she 's  sour." — "No,  'ta'n't  it;  it's 
'cause  she  's  a  vergin'  nigh  fifty." 

But  gracious  !  what  an  awful  cloud  has  risen  in  the  west ! 
And  what  a  frightful  lightning  flash  then  swept  across  its  breast ! 
I  feel  a  drop  upon  my  hand  —  the  pine  trees  rock  and  roar  — 
The  waves  like  blacks,  with  nightcaps  on,  rush  madly  to  the  shore  ! 

"0,  what  shall  we  do?  where  shall  we  go?  what 
will  become  of  us?"  screams  everybody.  "Do,  dear 
Mr.  Wiggin,"  says  Miss  Pidgin,  "  tell  us  ivhat  we  shall 
do?" 

Mr.  Wiggin.  —  "Why, 'ta'n't  no  use  to  run's  I 
see,  for  the  rain  is  here,  and  there  a'n't  a  house  within  a 
mile ;  and  my  'pinion  is  that  we  get  in  the  woods  and 
make  ourselves  comfortable." 


THE    PIC-NIC.  317 

"  But  don't  the  lightnin'  always  strike  trees?" 

"  There 's  more  danger  from  your  eyes,  Jemima. 
Lightnin's  attracted  by  anything  bright;  you'd  better 
shut  'em  up." 

Jemima.  —  "  Your  wit  is  n't  bright  enough  to  attract 
it,  any  how,  Mr.  Impudence !  How  does  that  strike 
ye?" 

Old  Mrs.  Fog.  —  "  0,  that  folks  should  joke  and 
trifle  so,  when  there  's  so  much  to  make  'em  solemn  ! 
A' n't  you  afraid  the  thunder  '11  kill  you  ?  And  where 
would  you  go  if  you  died  a  laughing?  " 

The  rain  pours  down  in  torrent  force  among  the  forest  shades, 
And  timid  men  the  closer  cling  to  timid,  shrinking  maids  ; 
The  whitened  cheek  and  blenching  eye  denote  the  force  of  fear, 
And  many  a  head  bows  low  with  dread  the  thunder  loud  to  hear. 

"  Well,  this  is  a  comfort !  See  where  Miss  Primrose 
has  cornered  old  Brindle  —  cheek-by-jowl.  That 's  right. 
Go  it,  old  gall !  My  eyes  !  how  it  rains !  If  Pan  is  the 
presiding  genius  of  these  woods,  in  my  opinion  he  's  a 
dripping  Pan." 

Old  Brindle  —  "  Young  man,  I  'm  a  justice  of  the 
peace  in  this  'ere  jurisdiction,  and  if  you  commit  that 
agin,  I  shall  commit  you  for  contempt  of  court." 

"  Here  comes  Jim  Sly  through  the  wet,  pitching  like 
a  mackerel-catcher  in  a  chop  sea.  Hallo,  Jim,  here's 
Polly,  like  a  widowed  hen,  refusing  to  be  comforted." 

Jim  (sobered). —  "  Sally,  will  ye  forgive  me?  " 

Sally.  —  "  No,  you  disreputable  individual.  To  think 
that  you  should  go  away,  and — and — leave  me  to  — 

boo  —  hoo  —  hoo  " 

27* 


818  THE     PIC-NIC. 

Jim.  —  "  There,  don't  cry,  and  I  '11  go  and  take  the 
totetal  pledge,  Maine  liquor  law  and  all,  and  become  a 
useful  membrane  of  society,  and  if  I  drink  any  more,  I 
hope  I  may  never  —  starve  !  " 

"  See,  Mr.  Blisby,  while  we  are  soaking,  how  the 
horses  outside  are  smoking." 

Mr.  B.  —  "  Do  horses  in  the  country  smoke?  " 

"  Yes,  and  we've  got  a  filly  at  home  who  throws  all 
that  choose  to  back  her." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

Thus,  while  the  rain  is  pouring  so, 

Fun  may  mingle  with  our  fear  : 
And,  while  the  wind  is  roaring  so, 

Still  may  waken  words  of  cheer. 

The  rain  clears  up,  the  burnished  sun  comes  out  with  scorching  ray, 
Dispelling  from  the  sky  and  heart  all  shapes  of  gloom  away, 
And  laughter  now  bursts  forth  once  more  in  cheerful,  merry  peal, 
And  "  Home  Again"  is  sung  with  glee  as  o'er  the  road  we  wheel. 

"Are  you  all  comfortable?  Sit  close  as  possible. 
Here  we  go  !  And  now,  on  the  road  for  home,  let  us  be 
merry  as  we  can  be.  Miss  Pidgin,  did  you  enjoy  your 
duck  ?  "  —  "  You  are  a  goose,  sir,  to  talk  so."  —  "  Miss 
Primrose,  you  look  refreshed  since  your  sprinkling  from 
nature's  water-pot.  Mr.  Blisby,  this  is  fine  —  a  subject 
for  a  letter,  Mr.  Blisby.  Jemima,  my  dear,  you  look  as 
blooming  as  the  rose  in  June,  and  twice  as  sweet.  There  's 
the  Bozzleton  factory  rising  above  the  trees,  and  the  old 
vane,  like  vanity,  pluming  itself  in  the  sunshine.  Hurrah 
for  home  !  Old  lady  with  the  mob-cap,  take  your  head 
in  doors.  Urchins  in  corduroys,  scatter.  Young  maiden 
with  the  milking-pail,  who  are  you  looking  at  ?  " 


AN    EXCELLENT   TEST    OF   AFFECTION.  319 

Mr.  Blisby  (rising).  —  "  Before  -we  part,  I  should 
like  to  say  that  the  pleasure  I  have  experienced  has  far 
exceeded  my  expectations,  and  that  I  shall  always  enter- 
tain a  pleasing  recollection  of  the  delightful  moments 
spent  in  this  —  in  this  —  hay-cart !  " 

"  Three  cheers  for  Blisby  !  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  if 
it  is  your  opinion  that  we  have  enjoyed  ourselves  (a 
great  way  over  the  sinister),  you  will  please  to  manifest 
it.  Yes  !  Then  we  '11  adjourn  with  the  chorus  — 

Some  seek  for  glee  by  the  heaving  sea, 

Some  rush  on  a  railroad  train, 
But  give  us  a  part  on  a  country  cart, 

And  a  pic-nic  out  in  the  rain  !  " 

Exeunt  Omnibus,  K.  u.  E. 


AN  EXCELLENT  TEST  OF  AFFECTION. 

"  THE  summer  is  no  time  to  try  the  strength  of  affec- 
tion," said  Mrs.  Partington;  "though  it's  pretty  well 
to  sing  love  songs  beneath  a  window  at  midnight,  in  a 
rain-storm,  or  stand  billing  and  cooling  on  the  door-step 
till  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  winter  season  is 
the  one.  Many 's  the  time  my  poor  Paul  has  rid  five 
miles  to  see  me,  the  coldest  weather ;  and  often,  the  dear 
cretur  has  been  found  in  the  morning  fast  asleep  in  the 
middle  of  the  cow-yard,  with  the  saddle  on  his  own 
shoulders,  from  fatigue  with  courting  me,  and  riding  a 
hard-trotting  horse  There  was  devotion  !  I  never  see 
a  cow  without  thinking  of  poor  Paul ;"  and,  saying 
which,  the  good  old  lady  went  to  bed. 


320  HIGH-DUTCH   VS.    POLITENESS. 


HIGH-DUTCH   «.   POLITENESS. 

IAS  the  Washington  street 
train  gone  by  here?" 
asked  Mrs.  Partington  of 
a  gentleman  with  a  huge 
mustache,  who  stood  pick- 
ing his  teeth  on  the  steps 
of  the  Revere  House.  The 
old  lady  meant  the  Wash- 
ington street  omnibus  that 
runs  between  the  Lowell 
depot  and  Dover  street. 
The  gentleman  still  picked 
his  teeth,  and  looked  grave- 
ly at  her,  but  said  not  a  word.  "  Has  the  Washington 
street  train  passed  by  here?  "  she  asked  again,  thinking 
the  gentleman  had  n't  heard  her.  He  still  stood,  and  stood 
still,  and  looked  and  picked,  but  said  nothing.  "  Well ! " 
said  the  old  dame,  half  musing  and  half  addressing  the 
man  with  the  mustache;  "  it  was  only  a  civil  question, 
and  I  did  n't  think  there  was  anything  harmonious  in 
asking  it ;  but  some  people  thinks  it  a  great  hardship  to 
do  any  one  a  favor.  It  would  n't  have  required  much 
effort,  I  should  think,  to  have  answered  me,  nor  took  a 
great  deal  of  anybody's  time,  nor  interfered  with  any- 
oody's  occupancy.  If  anybody  has  got  focal  organs  I 
should  think  they  might  use  'em." 


GOOD   TASTE.  321 

"  Nein  ferstan,"  responded  the  man  with  the  mus- 
tache, as  he  put  his  hands  beneath  his  coat-tails,  and 
walked  up  the  steps,  leaving  Mrs.  Partington  standing 
like  a  note  of  interrogation  at  the  end  of  her  speech, 
while  the  omnibus,  which  had  passed  while  she  was  speak- 
ing, was  seen  far  in  the  distance. 


GOOD  TASTE. 

'I  CAN'T  bear  children,"  said  Miss  Prim,  disdain- 
fully. 

Mrs.  Partington  looked  at  her  over  her  spectacles 
mildly  before  she  replied. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  could  you  would  like  them  better," 
she  at  last  said ;  ' '  but  why  is  it  that  unmarried  old  maids 
and  single  bachelors  are  always  railing  at  children  ?  It 
seems  as  if  they  had  never  read  the  command  given  to 
our  forefathers  to  '  increase  and  multiply  and  punish  the 
earth.'  For  my  part,  I  love  the  little  dears,  and  I  had 
rather  hear  a  child  cry  any  day  than  hear  the  Brass 
Band." 

And  she  went  right  to  work  covering  a  ball  for  Ike. 


322  OLD    ROGER   MUCH   EXCITED 


OLD   ROGER  MUCH   EXCITED. 

"  MRS.  TIMMS,"  said  old  Roger,  one  morning  to  his 
landlady  at  the  breakfast-table  ;  he  was  an  old  bachelor 
was  Roger,  and,  as  such,  was  an  object  of  considerable 
interest,  both  with  the  landlady  and  three  antiquated 
spinsters  who  boarded  with  her.  "Mrs.  Timms,  what 
sort  of  a  house  do  you  keep  1  What  sort  of  a  neighbor- 
hood is  this  that  you  live  in?  and  why  is  it  that  you 
have  such  a  bad  character  round  town,  ma'am  ?  " 

The  landlady  was  astonished,  and  well  she  might  be, 
for  he  looked  excited  —  incensed. 

"I've  boarded  here,  ma'am,"  continued  he,  "just 
seven  weeks,  and  every  week  we  have  had  a  tract  left 
here,  and  each  tract  is  against  some  cardinal  sin,  ma'am, 
that  you,  nor  me,  nor  the  young  ladies  here,  I  hope 
ever  committed.  Here 's  drunkenness,  and  gambling, 
and  swearing,  and  lying,  and  stealing,  and  adultery,  and 
bearing  false  witness,  —  almost  all  the  sins  in  the  church 
calendar,  ma'am,  and  what  '11  come  next  I  can't  guess. 
/  can't  stand  it,  ma'am.  Why,  the  devil  himself  could  n't 
stand  it." 

And  his  brow  looked  hot  and  steamy,  and  he  bore  the 
look  of  a  man  injured  by  an  implied  reflection  on  a  here- 
tofore bright  reputation. 


RARE   DUN.  323 


RARE  DUN. 

ONE  morning  old  Sledge  got  capsized  out  of  his  wherry, 
halibut  and  all,  at  the  Spring  Market,  in  P*  *  *  *  *, 
under  the  old  dynastiness  of  that  institution,  and  was 
nearly  drowned  when  they  got  him  out.  He  was  so  near 
death  that  the  ones  who  caught  him  could  n't  see  any 
signs  of  life  in  him.  But  they  rolled  him  and  rubbed 
him  and  shook  him,  and  sent  off  among  the  neighbors  for 
warm  blankets  to  put  him  in.  Old  Mrs.  Twist,  who 
lived  on  Church  Hill,  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart, 
stripped  her  beds  at  once,  and  left  her  work  all  hanging, 
as  she  said,  by  "sixes  and  sevens,"  to  go  and  help  bring 
the  man  to.  She  warmed  the  blankets,  and  rubbed 
away  vigorously  at  the  inanimate  Sledge,  working  as  if 
her  heart  was  in  the  operation,  as  undoubtedly  it  was. 
After  a  while,  the  rubbing  took  effect,  or,  as  some 
suggested,  his  ugly  nature  refused  to  die,  and  he 
revived — slowly — slowly  —  first  a  gape  and  then  a  groan 
—  then  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  the  first  person  he  looked 
upon  was  Mrs.  Twist,  busily  engaged  in  her  benevolent 
manipulations.  He  looked  at  her  a  moment,  and  con- 
sciousness returned. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  as  he  spit  the  salt  water  out  of  his 
codlike  mouth,  "glad  to  see  ye;  been  looking  arter  ye 
for  a  long  time ;  would  like  to  have  ye  pay  me  the  two 
shillings  ye  owe  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Twist  assured  us  it  was  the  most  unthankfuleat 
thing  she  ever  heard  of,  and  we  think  so  too. 


324  THE    BEAR-SKINS. 


THE   BEAR-SKINS. 

"HERE  come  the  sogers,  aunt! "  cried  Ike,  at  the  door, 
"  here  they  come  in  their  bear  skins  '  " 

"In  their  bare  skins  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  glanc- 
ing out  of  the  window  into  the  cold,  towards  the  weath- 
ercock that  had  looked  obstinately  east  for  three  days, 
much  to  the  danger  of  a  return  of  her  rheumatism  that 
an  east  wind  always  induced,  —  so  much  so  that  she  had 
declared  her  determination  to  move  in  the  vicinity  of  some 
Catholic  church,  whose  vane  always  points  one  way,  — 
"  in  their  bare  skins  such  a  day  as  this  !  Highlanders,  I 
guess." 

She  hastened  to  the  door,  and  a  company,  with  huge 
and  hideous  caps,  were  then  marching  by.  She  saw  that 
she  was  sold. 

"  Ah ! "  said  she,  "  this  is  one  of  the  horrors  of  war,  to 
go  looking  so;  and  s'pose  one  of  them  poor  creaturs 
should  fall  down,  —  he  's  so  top-heavy  his  heels  would 
go  up  in  the  air,  like  a  cornstalk  witch,  and  all  his  brains 
would  run  down  into  his  head.  I  can't  bear  to  look  at 
'em." 

She  closed  the  door  carefully,  but  she  stood  in  the 
entry  and  beat  time  to  the  music  till  it  had  got  far  past 
the  house. 


AWFUL    DEWY.  325 


AWFUL   DEWY. 

OLD  ROGER  stood  looking  from  the  window  out  upon 
the  solitary  tiger  lily,  —  the  only  one  that  could  be 
coaxed  to  grow  for  the  summer,  in  the  meagre  atmos- 
phere of  the  boarding-house  yard.  The  sickly  lily  held 
its  head  up  stoutly  beneath  the  refreshing  dew  that  had 
fallen  upon  it  during  the  night,  and  the  shed-top,  and 
the  ashes-barrel  in  the  yard,  and  the  few  blades  of  grass 
that  sturdily  struggled  against  difficulty  and  managed  to 
grow  in  spite  of  circumstances,  were  all  wet.  Old  Roger 
turned  around,  and  all  knew  by  his  looks  that  something 
was  coming,  and  were  prepared  for  it. 

"Why,"  said  he,  in  a  cheerful  tone,  "  was  this  last 
night  that  has  just  passed  like  a  certain  very  eminent 
clergyman?" 

All  guessed  it  at  once  except  the  deaf  milliner,  who 
had  n't  heard  a  word  of  it ;  but  they  did  n't  say  so,  and 
gave  it  up. 

"It  is  because  it  was  awful  dewy  !  " 

What  a  laugh  greeted  the  answer !  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  jolly  old  brick  put  on  his  hat,  and  went  off) 
like  a  rocket,  in  a  blaze  of  glory. 
28 


326  A   SLIGHT   MISAPPREHENSION. 


A  SLIGHT  MISAPPREHENSION. 

• 

"How  do  you  like  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  Bos- 
ton?" asked  the  shop-keeper,  as  Mrs.  Partington  stuou 
by  the  counter. 

"  It  gives  me  confusion  to  see  'em/'  said  the  old  lady; 
"folks  didn't  do  so  Avhen  I  was  a  girl;  and,  besides, 
what  an  awful  sight  of  bran  and  cotton  it  takes,  to  say 
nothing  of  their  awkwardness  when  they  get  slipped  on 
one  side  "  — 

"I  mean,"  broke  in  the  shopkeeper,  "the  bustle  and 
confusion  of  the  streets." 

"  0,"  said  Mrs.  P.,  "that  is  quite  another  thing!" 
and  immediately  left  the  store. 


THE  steak  was  terrible  tough  one  morning,  and  Old 
Roger  worked  away  at  it  in  silence.  At  length  his 
patience  and  masticators  gave  out ;  turning  to  the  land- 
lady, "Madam,"  said  he,  "your  boarders  should  all 
have  been  umpires  at  horse-races." 

"Why  so?"  said  she,  coloring  highly. 

"  Because,  being  accustomed  to  '  tender  stakes,'  they 
would  have  none  of  the  difficulty  that  I  experience  ;  they 
could  obviate  it." 

It  was  an  unpardonable  thing  in  him,  thus  to  expose 
her  before  all  the  boarders,  and  she  thought  the  outrage 
more  than  offset  the  tough  meat. 


PEPPERCASE    REBUKED.  327 


PEPPERCASE   REBUKED. 

"  STOP  your  noise  in  there !  "  roared  Mr.  Peppercase, 
as  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  juvenile  riot  in  the  kitchen. 
"  If  I  come  to  you  I  '11  give  you  something  that  you  will 
remember  for  a  fortnight !  I  '11  knock  your  heads  off! 
I  never  saw  such  children  in  my  life ;  always  yelling  and 
fighting." 

"I  declare,  that's  queer!"  said  Mrs.  Partington,  who 
was  there  to  tea;  "  that  is  queer,  when  they  have  such  a 
very  mild  man  for  a  father  ;  I  should  think  they  wou^a 
be  as  gentle  as  doves.  Some  fathers  are  like  the  fright- 
ful porcupine,  and  of  course  their  children  will  be 
fractious;  — as  the  old  hog  squeals  the  young  ones  learn, 
you  know." 

She  stirred  her  tea  gently,  and  smiled  as  she  spoke ; 
and  Mr.  Peppercase,  after  a  vain  effort  to  detect  malice 
in  her  looks,  changed  the  subject  to  the  best  mode  of 
raising  cucumbers,  which  cooled  him  down  in  a  short 
time. 


328  A    REMEMBERED    MISTAKE. 


A  REMEMBERED  MISTAKE. 

"  IT  is  all  very  true,  Mr.  Knickerbottom,"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  read  in  the  Knickerbocker  some- 
thing concerning  brevity  and  simplicity  of  expression  ; 
"  it 's  true,  as  you  say;  and  how  many  mistakes  there 
does  happen  when  folks  don't  understand  each  other  ! 
Why,  last  summer  I  told  a  dressmaker  to  make  me  a 
long  visite,  to  wear,  and,  would  you  believe  it,  she  came 
and  staid  a  fortnight  with  me?  Since  then  I  've  made 
it  a  pint  always  to  speak  just  what  I  say." 

Her  mouth  grew  down  to  a  determined  pucker  at  the 
end  of  the  sentence,  and  the  snuff-box  was  tapped  ener- 
getically, as  if  the  fortnight  of  unrequited  bread  and 
butter  was  laying  heavy  on  her  memory. 


"  FAITH  is  a  great  thing,  and  confidence  in  the  cook, 
and  the  trust  that  what  you  have  before  you  is  the  true 
representative  of  the  name  it  bears,"  said  old  Roger,  in 
his  lecture  over  the  bread  pudding ;  and  he  peered  in- 
tently into  his  plate,  as  at  some  mysterious  thing  which 
had  there  arisen  to  perplex  him.  "  But,"  he  continued, 
"  can  I  be  expected  to  swallow  everything,  always  in 
blind  credulity,  or  go  so  far  as  to  construe  pork-skins 
and  cheese-rinds  to  mean  bread  crumbs  1 " 

And  he  gently  pushed  his  plate  away  and  took  a  piece 
of  the  pie. 


MRS.    PARTINGTQN   AND   JENNY   LIND.  329 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AND  JENNY  LIND. 

"I  NEVER  liked  the  Swedenvirgins,"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington.  She  was  orthodox,  and  always  sat  in  the  Asy- 
lum pew  in  the  north-east  corner  of  the  gallery,  and  had 
charge  of  the  children  in  sermon  time.  Her  raised 
finger  was  an  admonition  that  brought  young  refractories 
to  their  obedience  at  once.  Every  Sunday  was  she 
there,  and  people  expected  to  see  the  faded  black  bonnet 
above  the  railings,  in  prayer-time,  as  much  as  they 
did  the  parson.  "  I  never  liked  the  Swedenvirgins  ;  but 
I  a' n't  one  that  believes  nothing  good  can  come  out  of 
Lazarus,  for  all  that.  Now,  there's  Jenny Lind, — may 
Heaven  shower  bags  of  dollars  on  her  head !  —  that  is  so 
very  good  to  everybody,  and  Avho  sings  so  sweet  that 
everybody 's  falling  in  love  with  her,  tipsy  turvy,  and 
gives  away  so  much  to  poor,  indignant  people.  They 
call  her  an  angel,  and  who  knows  but  she  may  be  a 
syrup  in  disguise,  for  the  papers  say  her  singing  is  like 
the  mugic  of  the  spears.  How  I  should  love  to  hear 
her!"  * 

She  grasped  hastily  at  the  long  bead  purse  in  her 
reticule,  but  an  unsatisfactory  response  came  back  from 
it  to  her  hopes,  and  she  laid  it  back  again  with  a  sigh. 

28* 


330  THE   USE    OF   THE  AZTECS. 


THE   USE   OF   THE  AZTECS. 

"  WE  are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  after  she  had  stood  for  a  long  time  contem- 
plating the  Aztec  children.  Her  hands  were  resting 
upon  the  back  of  a  chair  as  she  said  this,  and  she  made 
the  remark  so  loud  that  a  tall  gentleman,  who  stood  near 
her,  stooped  down  to  get  a  look  under  her  black  bonnet. 
He  thought  she  had  spoken  to  him.  "  We  are  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made,"  continued  she,  "  'specially  some 
of  us.  The  ways  of  Providence  is  past  finding  out,  and 
we  don't  know  what  these  Haystack  children  are  made 
for,  no  more  'n  we  do  why  the  mermaids  were  made,  or 
the  man  in  the  moon.  Perhaps  they  are  made  a  pur- 
pose for  curiosities,  and  nothing  but  Providence  could 
make  anything  more  so,  unless  Mr.  Barnum  should  try. 
Human  natur  never  come  done  up  in  so  queer  a  wrapper 
before.  They  say  they  are  distended  from  the  Hay- 
Stacks  long  ago  gone  to  grass.  And  Isaac,"  said  she, 
turning  to  Ike,  who  was  teasing  one  of  them  with  a  stick, 
"  Isaac,  look  upon  'em,  and  pray  you  may  never  be  born 
so." 

The  people  had  gathered  around,  and  were  listening  to 
the  words  as  they  fell,  like  the  notes  of  a  hand-organ, 
from  her  lips ;  and  when  she  ceased,  they  turned  with 
renewed  eagerness  to  inspect  the  objects  that  her  remarks 
had  rendered  classic. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  BRAZEN  NOSE. 


331 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  BRAZEN   NOSE; 

OR,  THE  MAIDEN'S  REVENGE. 


CHAPTER    I 


THE   HERO    OF    THE    STORY. 


r\  niGHT  closed  around 

iuf  the  field  of  Asin- 

U\l 


court.  Sir  Hilde- 
brand  Hellytisplit, 
who  had  been 
watching  its  ap- 
proach for  an  hour, 
from  a  neighboring 
"]  hill,  with  a  spy- 
g  glass,  turned  his 
horse's  head  to- 
I  wards  his  quarters, 
with  a  sad  heart; 
for  the  day  had  been  destructive  to  horse-flesh,  and 
thousands  of  the  French  and  Norman  chivalry  bit  the 
mud  (not  dust)  of  Agincourt.  He  sought  his  tent.  His 
brow  was  dark  and  gloomy,  as  could  be  plainly  seen 
through  his  iron  helmet ;  and  an  unevenness  of  gait,  as 
he  strode  along,  betrayed  great  agitation  of  the  nervous 
system. 

"  Walter  de  Coursey  Stubbs,"  said  he,  hoarsely,  to  hia 
squire  in  attendance,  "hang  up  my  horse,  and  give  my 


332  THE    MYSTERY    OF    THE    BRAZEN    NOSE. 

casque  some  oats  and  water.  And,  hark  ye  !  disturb  me 
not  until  the  Connecticut  wooden  horologe  in  the  vesti- 
bule striketh  the  hour  of  seving.  Now,  away." 

Sir  Hildebrand  Hellytisplit  slowly  divested  himself  of 
his  armor,  which  clanged  upon  the  stillness  of  the  night 
like  a  tin  kitchen,  and  then  taking  a  match  from  his  vest 
pocket,  he  lighted  a  three-cent  regalia,  and  puffed  away 
at  it  in  moody  silence.  He  stretched  himself  upon 
three  chairs,  with  a  bundle  of  old  newspapers  under  his 
head,  and  dropped  asleep,  and  then  caught  a  nap.  But 
his  sleep  was  troubled.  Anon  he  started,  and  shouted, 
"  St.  Dennis  for  France!  give  'em  fits!"  Again  a 
clammy  sweat  covered  his  brow,  and  he  muttered,  "  Ha ! 
thrice  to-day  hath  the  brazen  nose  gleamed  upon  me  in 
the  battle-field.  Down,  old  copper-head,  down  !  " 

But  soon  his  slumbers  grew  calm,  and  not  a  sound 
disturbed  the  silence,  save  the  man-at-arms,  who  sat 
whetting  his  jackknife  on  a  brick  in  the  entry,  and  in- 
dulging in  whistling  some  old  familiar  psalm-tunes,  as  if 
his  mind  were  elsewhere;  for  that  man-at-arms  had  a 
heart,  he  had. 

CHAPTER    II. 

THE     BRAZEN     NOSE. 

IT  was  midnight,  within  about  ten  minutes,  and  Sir 
Hildebrand  Hellytisplit  still  slept.  At  this  moment  a 
slight  noise  was  heard  at  the  door,  and,  bearing  in  his 
hand  a  tin  lantern,  a  knight  of  gigantic  size,  —  some  five 
feet  six  in  height,  —  in  complete  armor,  strode  into  the 
tent.  He  gazed  intently  upon  the  sleeper,  and  then,  in 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  BRAZEN  NOSE.     333 

9,  suppressed  voice,  of  great  anguish,  sighed  out,  "  Ah  ! 
oh !  urn !  "  and  sank  into  a  seat,  like  a  cooking-stove. 
His  face  could  not  be  seen,  but  there  was  a  dignity  about 
the  strange  knight  that  betokened  a  genteel  bringing-up, 
which  had  won  the  respect  of  the  man-at-arms,  who  had 
been  bribed  by  a  ninepence  to  admit  him  to  the  tent,  on 
the  plea  of  "  special  business." 

His  armor  was  of  complete  black,  with  no  distinguish- 
ing mark,  save  a  huge  nose  of  brass,  borne  upon  the 
casque,  which  gleamed  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  like  a 
quart  pot.  Taking  a  pencil  from  one  pocket,  and  a  card 
from  another,  he  wrote  a  few  hurried  lines ;  when,  whis- 
pering to  the  man-at-arms  for  an  envelope  and  a  wafer,  he 
sealed  the  missive,  and  deposited  it  by  the  side  of  the 
sleeping  Sir  Hildebrand,  saying  to  the  admiring  attend- 
ant, "  No  trouble,  sirrah,  about  mailing  letters  here ; 
we  can  mail  them  with  our  own  mailed  hands,  eh  !  "  It 
were  better  he  had  not  uttered  this ;  for  the  man,  who 
hoped  for  further  largess,  laughed  loudly  at  the  pleas- 
antry. 

The  light  in  the  lantern  disappeared,  as  Sir  Hildebrand 
Hellytisplit  awoke,  and,  starting  upon  his  elbow,  he  cried 
aloud,  "  What,  ho  !  without  there  ?  What  'n  thunder  's 
all  that  noise  about?"  The  men-at-arms  and  squires 
came  rushing  in,  rubbing  their  eyes.  None  had  heard 
the  noise,  and,  at  the  suggestion  of  Walter  de  Coursey 
Stubbs,  that  he  had  been  awakened  by  his  own  snoring, 
Sir  Hildebrand  turned  over  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

"  Keep  shady,"  was  the  parting  word  of  the  stranger 
knight,  as  he  placed  a  quarter  in  the  hand  of  Walter,  and 
strode  forth  from  the  tent.  Mystery  crowned  the  hour. 


THE   MYSTERY   OF   THE   BRAZEN   NOSE. 
CHAPTER    III. 

TUB     GAME     IS     UP ! 

SCARCELY  had  the  wooden  clock  done  striking  the  hour 
of  seven,  the  next  morning,  when  Walter  de  Coursey 
Stubbs  stood  by  his  master's  side  to  awake  him  from  his 
slumbers,  which  he  accomplished  by  pulling  one  of  the 
chairs  from  beneath  him.  Sir  Hildebrand  Hellytisplit 
wiped  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  combed  his  hair  with 
his  fingers,  and  then,  as  was  his  wont,  commenced  pom- 
melling his  attendant  by  way  of  gentle  exercise,  after 
which  he  proceeded  to  dress  himself  in  the  panoply  of 
war.  Stooping  to  pick  up  one  of  the  stove-pipes  that 
encased  his  legs,  Sir  Hildebrand  espied  the  letter  left  by 
the  stranger,  lying  upon  the  ground.  He  gazed  upon 
the  writing,  and  a  mortal  paleness  covered  his  face.  His 
limbs  trembled  in  every  joint  and  rivet,  and  his  teeth, 
which  were  not  metallic,  shook  like  a  set  of  props.  He 
read  — 

"  Perfigis  retch :  — your  our  is  cum.  .  .  Mete  me  to- 
morrar  outside  the  Inglish  lines,  and  He  giv  yu  Jessy. 
Yours  respectively,  NOSEY." 

Sir  Hildebrand  Hellytisplit  drank  his  coffee  in  silence ; 
after  which,  arming  himself  with  two  spears,  a  battle- 
axe,  a  sword,  mace  and  shield,  besides  filling  his  belt 
with  bowie  knives,  revolvers,  and  slung  shot,  he  walked 
forth  into  the  fields,  in  the  rear  of  the  English  camp, 
where  he  soon  discovered  the  Knight  of  the  Brazen  Nose 


THE   MYSTERY    OF  THE   BRAZEN   NOSE. 

Bitting  on  a  rock,  reading  a  newspaper,  who  sprang  to  hia 
feet  and  pulled  out  his  sword. 

The  contest  was  speedily  begun  and  quicker  ended; 
for  Sir  Hildebrand  had  "  too  many  irons  in  the  fire," 
and  he  couldn't  "  come  in"  well.  One  blow  from  the 
powerful  arm  of  him  of  the  Nose,  and  the  head  of  Sir 
Hildebrand  Hellytisplit,  like  an  iron  pot,  rolled  at  the 
feet  of  the  victor. 

Uttering  a  fearful  cry  of  agony  at  this  consummation, 
the  strange  knight  tore  off  his  helmet,  revealing  beneath 
a  head  of  hair  like  a  pound  of  flax,  the  fair  but  hard 
countenance  of  Judy  O'Brien,  the  washer-woman. 
"  Gentlemen,"  said  she,  "  he  was  a  perjured  man,  and 
I  have  avenged  myself  upon  him.  He  owed  me  a  bill 
for  washing,  but,  alas!  in  wiping  out  that  score,  I've 
flummoxed  myself.  Tell  this  to  my  countrywomen ; 
never  seek  for  vengeance ;  't  is  better  to  forgive  a  little, 
if  they  lose  a  shilling  on  the  pound.  Farewell."  Say- 
ing which,  she  disappeared  up  a  tall  tree  that  was  near 
by,  and  they  never  saw  her  more. 

Coroner  de  Smythe,  under  the  circumstances,  did  not 
think  it  advisable  to  summon  a  jury,  and  informed  Sir 
Hildebrand's  friends,  by  telegraph,  that  they  had  better 
come  on  and  look  after  his  effects),  as  ne  was  n't  exactly 
in  a  condition  to  do  it  for  himself.  A  Flemish  Jew  bought 
Sir  Hildebrand  Hellytisplit's  wardrobe,  after  a  few  keep- 
sakes had  been  taken  by  friends,  for  about  the  price  of 
old  iron. 


83G  GOING  TO   CALIFORNIA. 


GOING  TO   CALIFORNIA. 

"  DEAR  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Partington  sorrowfully, 
"  how  much  a  man  will  bear,  and  how  far  he  will  go,  to 
get  the  soddered  dross,  as  Parson  Martin  called  it  when 
he  refused  the  beggar  a  sixpence,  for  fear  it  might  lead 
him  into  extravagance  !  Everybody  is  going  to  California 
and  Chagrin  arter  gold.  Cousin  Jones  and  the  three 
Smiths  have  gone  ;  and  Mr.  Chip,  the  carpenter,  has  left 
his  wife  and  seven  children  and  a  blessed  old  mother-in- 
law,  to  seek  his  fortin,  too.  This  is  the  strangest  yet, 
and  I  don't  see  how  he  could  have  done  it;  it  looks  so 
ongrateful  to  treat  Heaven's  blessings  so  lightly.  But 
there,  we  are  told  that  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of 
all  evil,  and  how  true  it  is !  for  they  are  now  rooting 
arter  it,  like  pigs  arter  groundnuts.  Why,  it  is  a  perfect 
money  mania  among  everybody  ! " 

And  she  shook  her  head  doubtingly,  as  she  pensively 
watched  a  small  mug  of  cider,  with  an  apple  in  it,  sim- 
mering by  the  winter  fire.  She  was  somewhat  fond  of 
drink  made  in  this  way. 


A    TOUGH    CUSTOMER  337 


A  TOUGH   CUSTOMER. 

"  WILL  you  help  me  to  a  piece  of  chicken?  "  asked 
Miss  Seraphina  of  old  Koger,  on  Thanksgiving  day. 
The  old  man  was  engaged  elbow -deep  in  the  intricate 
task  of  carving ;  the  perspiration  stood  upon  his  brow, 
from  his  exertions,  —  truly  herculean  efforts,  —  in  dis- 
secting a  large  fowl. 

"  Chicken !  "  muttered  he  ;  "do  you  call  this  a 
chicken?  Why,  it  has  been  the  father  of  thousands, 
miss." 

He  had  n't  a  very  thankful  spirit  that  day,  and  the 
older  boarders,  with  bad  teeth,  joined  with  him  in  ques- 
tioning the  propriety  of  being  thankful. 


OLD  ROGER'S  boarding-house  having  failed,  and  the 
furniture  being  taken  to  be  sold  on  mean  process,  as  he 
called  it,  he  asked  one  of  the  chambermaids,  who  always 
had  been  saucy  to  him,  if  she  was  to  be  sold  with  the 
rest  of  the  furniture.  She  answered  him  "No!"  as 
sharp  as  vinegar. 

"0,"  said  he,  coolly  buttoning  up  his  coat,  "  I  sup- 
posed you  were,  for  the  advertisement  reads  that  the 
house  is  to  be  sold  with  all  the  impertinences  thereto 
belonging." 

He  very  cruelly  laughed  at  the  indignant   look  she 
gave  him,  and  stepped  out. 
29 


388  FUNERAL    OBSTACLES. 


FUNERAL   OBSTACLES. 

"  How  solemn  these  funeral  obstacles  is  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  looked  down  from  an  upper  chamber 
window,  on  the  day  of  a  mock  funeral  of  one  of  the 
presidents.  She  took  off  her  specs  to  wipe  the  moisture 
from  their  discs,  tapped  her  box  mournfully  to  the 
measured  time  of  the  distant  drum,  and  looked  anxiously 
down  the  street,  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  funeral 
train.  "  Here  it  comes  at  last,"  quoth  she,  "with  the 
soldiers  all  playing  with  muzzled  drums,  and  their  flags 
flying  at  half-mast.  Is  that  the  catastrophe  ?"  whis- 
pered she  of  a  gentleman  near  her. 

"  That  is  the  catafalque,  madam,"  replied  he. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  she,  "  no  matter  ;  I  knowed  there 
was  a  cat  about  it,  and  I  did  n't  know  but  it  might  be  a 
cataplasm.  Will  you  tell  me  when  the  artillery  flies 
over,  that  come  on  here  to  tend  the  funeral?  " 

"Good  gracious,  madam  !"  cried  he  testily,  "they 
don't  fly.  They  are  artillery  men  on  horseback,  merely." 

"Dear  me  !  "  replied  she,  "I  thought  it  was  one  of 
the  wings  of  the  army,  and  flew.  How  easy  it  is  to  get 
mistaken !  " 

She  pensively  gazed  upon  the  pageant  that  slowly 
passed  before  her. 

"What  a  pity  it  is,"  said  she,  "that  we  don't  vally 
people  till  arter  they  are  dead ;  but  then  what  paragorics 
we  pour  upon  them  !  " 


EXCELLENT   ADVICE.  389 

She  here  paused ;  a  silence  pervaded  the  chamber ;  the 
procession  had  passed,  the  company  had  departed,  and 
two  hours  after  the  old  lady  was  found  still  sitting  by 
the  open  window  fast  asleep.  So  powerful  is  grief ! 


EXCELLENT  ADVICE. 

"  NEVER  get  in  debt,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Partington  ; 
and  she  raised  her  tea-spoon  with  an  oracular  air,  and 
held  it  thus,  as  if  from  it  were  suspended  the  threads  of 
a  fine  argument  on  economy,  discernible  to  her  eye  alone, 
and  she  was  watching  an  opportunity  to  make  it  tangi- 
ble. "  Never  get  in  debt,  no  matter  whether  you  are 
creditable  or  not ;  it  is  better  to  live  on  a  crust  of  bread 
and  water  and  a  herring  or  two,  than  cows  and  oxen  cut 
up  into  rump  steaks,  and  owe  for  it.  Think  of  our 
neighbor ;  what  a  failing  he  had,  and  had  all  his  goods 
and  impertinences  took  away  on  a  mean  procession  and 
sold,  and  his  poor  wife  reduced  to  a  calico  gound,  starv- 
ation, and  shushon  tea,  and  he  in  Californy  !  " 

"  Some  tea,  please,"  said  Ike,  as  he  handed  over  his 
tin  dipper.  The  tea,  like  her  own  reflections,  trickled 
out  musically ;  and  she  passed  along  the  caution,  with  the 
cream  and  sugar,  never  to  get  in  debt. 


840  TIMELY   REFLECTION. 


TIMELY  REFLECTION. 

"DEAR  me!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Partington;  and  her 
hands  were  raised  above  a  basket  of  potatoes,  in  a  pro- 
vision store,  as  if  she  were  asking  a  blessing  upon  it. 
It  was  in  response  to  the  shopkeeper,  who  had  told 
her,  in  sepulchral  tones,  that  the  potatoes  were  all  rot- 
ting. "  0,  dear  me  !  "  said  she,  "  if  the  potatoes  is  all 
rotting,  what  upon  airth  will  poor  people  do  for  bread  ? 
What  will  the  poor  Paddygonians  do  that  don't  eat  noth- 
ing else  ?  And  flour  is  very  high,  too.  They  tell  us 
every  now  and  then  of  an  improvement  in  the  market ; 
but  flour  is  always  just  as  dear  after  it,  and  we  have  to 
pay  full  as  much  for  a  half  dollar's  worth.  It  takes 
almost  a  remissness  of  Californy  gold  every  week  to  get 
along  now-a-days.  Heaven  help  the  poor  !  " 

What  a  heartiness  there  was  in  that  simple  prayer ! 
The  provision-dealer  was  affected.  He  dropped  the  long 
red,  he  had  been  holding,  pensively  into  the  basket  again, 
and  wiped  his  eyes  on  the  sleeve  of  his  white  frock. 
That  stern  man,  who  had  unrelentingly  cut  up  tons  of 
beef,  nor  shed  one  tear  over  the  struggles  of  expiring 
lambkins,  showing  no  quarter  while  quartering  them,  — 
that  stern  man  wiped  his  eyes  on  his  frock-sleeve,  and 
murmured  "  Yes'm  !"  It  was  touching  !  Everything 
was  sixteen  ounces  to  the  pound  with  him  for  that 
day. 


PREPARING    TO    .SEE    THE    PRESIDENT. 


PREPARING  TO  SEE  THE  PRESIDENT. 

OTHER  wants  to  know 
if  you'll   lend   her  a- 
little      merlasscs      to 
starch  a  cap,  to  go  and 
see     the    President." 
said  a  little  girl,  coming  into 
Mrs.  Partington's  kitchen,  bear- 
ing in  her  hand  a  tin  cup. 

"  Certainly,  dear,"  said  the 
good  dame,  pleasantly. 

She  never  thought  of  the 
unreasonableness  of  the  request ;  she  never  dreamed  of 
guile.  The  treacle  depository  was  brought  out,  the  golden 
liquid  filled  the  tin  receptacle,  and  the  child  departed. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  old  lady,  "  everybody  is  going  to 
see  the  President.  But  what  is  a  president,  or  a  king, 
or  a  justice  of  the  peace,  but  a  man,  arter  all,  with  flesh 
and  blood,  and  bones  and  hair,  like  any  of  us?  And 
thousands  will  come  further  to  see  him  than  they  would 
to  see  Saint  Paul,  or  Hebrews,  or  Revelations,  or  any  of 
'em.  Sich  man- worship  !  sich  man- worship  !  " 

"  The  President's  coming,  aunt !  "  said  Ike,  bursting 
in ;  "  and  he  is  going  i.y  our  door ;"  and  the  little  fellow 
was  half  crazy  with  delight,  and  threw  hid  oap  in  a  pan 
of  milk  upon  the  table  in  his  enthusiasm. 

"  How  do  I  look.  Isaac?  "  said  the  dame,  with  anima- 


3-12  A    CHURCH    INCIDENT. 

tion ;  "is  my  hair  combed,  and  my  handkerchief  digested 
right  on  my  neck,  and  my  cap  border  even?"  and  she 
took  her  place  by  the  window,  when  these  questions  were 
answered,  as  eager  as  any  one  to  "  see  the  President,''' 
and  Ike  stepped  out.  But  her  eyes  were  strangely  dim. 
and  those  hitherto  faithful  specs  gave  indications  now  of 
failing  her.  She  took  them  off  to  wipe  them,  and  both 
glasses  were  gone  !  An  hour  before,  Ike  had  borrowed 
them  for  a  telescopic  experiment.  But  it  did  n't  make 
any  odds,  for  the  procession  had  turned  down  another 
street,  and  did  n't  go  by  her  door  at  all. 


A   CHURCH   INCIDENT. 

THE  bell  had  tolled  for  some  minutes  after  the  time 
of  meeting,  and  some  signs  of  impatience  were  manifest. 
A  stranger,  touching  the  occupant  of  a  pew  in  front  of 
him,  asked,  "  Is  your  preacher  often  as  late  as  this?  " 

"0,  yes,  sir,"  replied  the  interrogated;  "it  often 
happens  that  he  don't  get  here  till  the  sermon  is  half 
through  !  " 

The  stranger  looked  at  him  intently  a  little  while,  and 
then  made  a  memorandum  of  this  fact  in  his  note-book. 


A   DRY-GOOD   LESSON.  343 


A  DRY-GOOD   LESSON. 

"HAVE  you  any  stout,  dark  marines?"  said  Mrs. 
Partington  to  the  shopkeeper.  He  was  one  of  those 
good-humored  young  men,  whose  hair,  nicely-curled, 
betokens  an  elegant  taste,  and  he  stood  swaying  back 
and  forth,  leaning  on  his  yardstick,  and  smiled  amiably 
as  the  old  lady  spoke.  "Have  you  any  dark  marines, 
suitable  for  thick  ladies'  outside  under  garments?  " 

"We  have  dark  moreens,  ma'am,"  replied  he,  and 
cast  his  eyes  towards  a  brother  clerk,  and  winked  archly. 
She  gazed  upon  him  a  moment  before  she  spoke  again. 
"Well,  well,  young  man,  it  was  only  a  slip  of  the 
tongue ;  and  if  you  never  make  a  greater  slip  in  meas- 
uring cloth,  you  will  be  much  more  honest  than  many 
clerks  I  know." 

The  clerk  colored  and  stammered  out  an  apology,  but 
it  was  needless.  There  was  no  unkindness  in  her  looks. 
The  spectacles  bent  their  bows  upon  him  steadily  from 
the  cavernous  gloom  of  the  big  bonnet,  but  his  per- 
turbed fancy  alone  made  them  terrible.  She  made  the 
purchase  she  intended,  and  in  measure  it  proved  full  halt 
a  quarter  over  what  she  had  bargained  for. 


344          A    GLANCE   AT    ^OVERTY. —  SLANDERERS. 


A  GLANCE   AT   POVERTY. 

"  IT  must  be  very  inconvenient  to  be  poor ;';  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  glanced  with  honest  pride  at  her  high- 
backed  chairs  and  old-fashioned  chest  of  drawers,  and 
continued  her  eye  on  to  the  open  cupboard  in  the  cor- 
ner. "  How  people  can  contrive  to  get  along  with  so 
little  I  don't  see.  There  is  our  poor  neighbor  down  the 
yard,  now,  is  so  pinched  for  room  that  she  has  to  have  a 
bed  in  the  very  room  where  she  sleeps  !  " 

Kind  old  lady  !  her  benevolence  walked  ahead  of  her 
grammar ;  but  a  trifling  error  in  speech  is  as  pardonable 
in  Mrs.  Partington  as  in  Henry  Clay. 


SLANDERERS. 

"  IF  there  is  anybody  under  the  canister  of  heaven 
that  I  have  in  utter  excrescence,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
"it  is  a  tale-bearer  and  slanderer,  going  about,  like  a 
vile  boa-constructor,  circulating  his  calomel  about  honest 
folks.  I  always  know  one  by  his  phismahogany.  It 
seems  as  if  Belzebub  had  stamped  him  with  his  private 
signal,  and  everything  he  looks  at  appears  to  turn 
yaller." 

And,  having  uttered  this  somewhat  elaborate  speech, 
ehe  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  took  some 
demulcent  drops. 


A    STORMY    SEASON.  345 


i   STORMY   SEASON. 

"  CEASE,  rude  Bolus,  blustering  railer!"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  reached  out  into  the  storm  to  secure  a 
refractory  shutter,  and  the  wind  rushed  in  and  extin- 
guished her  light,  and  slammed  to  the  door,  and  fanned 
the  fire  in  the  grate,  and  rustled  the  calico  flounce  upon 
the  quilt,  and  peeped  into  the  closet,  and  under  the  bed, 
and  contemptuously  shook  Mrs.  Partington' s  night- 
jacket,  as  it  hung  airing  on  the  chair  by  the  fire,  and 
flirted  with  her  cap-border,  as  she  looked  out  upon  the 
night.  It  was  a  saucy  gust.  "How  it  bloAvs!"  said 
she,  as  she  shut  down  the  window.  "  I  hope  Heaven 
will  keep  the  poor  sailors  safe  that  go  down  on  the  sea 
in  vessels !  This  must  be  the  obnoxious  storm,"  con- 
tinued she,  "  when  the  sun  crosses  the  Penobscot." 

She  donned  her  specs,  and  sat  down  to  consult  her 
almanac,  —  next  to  her  Bible  in  importance,  —  and  she 
found  she  was  right,  while  the  wind  howled  around  the 
house  most  dismally,  and  yelled  wildly  down  tho  old 
chimney. 


346  DIETETICAL    COUNSEL. 


DIETETICAL   COUNSEL. 

"  You  must  n't  be  too  greedy,  Isaac,"  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  as,  with  an  anxious  expression,  she  marked  a 
strong  effort  that  young  gentleman  was  making  to  achieve 
the  last  quarter  of  a  mince-pie.  "  You  should  n't  be  so 
glutinous,  dear.  You  must  be  careful,  or  you  will  get 
something  in  your  elementary  canal  or  sarcophagus  one 
of  these  days,  that  will  kill  you,  Isaac  (she  had  been  to 
hear  a  course  of  physiological  lectures),  and  then  you  will 
have  to  be  buried  in  the  cold  ground,  and  nobody  won't 
never  see  you  no  more  ;  and  what  will  I  do,  Isaac,  when 
you  are  cut  down  in  your  priming,  like  a  lovely  jelly- 
flower?" 

Much  affected  by  the  picture  her  own  prolific  fancy 
had  conjured  up,  she  pensively  sweetened  her  tea  for  the 
fourth  time,  and  looked  earnestly  upon  Isaac,  who,  un- 
heeding all  she  was  saying,  sat  gazing  at  the  street  door, 
revolving  in  his  mind  the  practicability  of  ringing  the 
door-bell  unperceived,  without  going  outside. 


DOMESTIC  peace  can  never  be  preserved  in   family 
jars. 


MRS    PARTINGTON   CONFERS  WITH   PAUL.         347 


MRS.  P.   CONFERS   WITH   PAUL. 


do  you  believe  in  the  spirituous  knockings?" 
asked  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  leaned  forward  over  the 
table,  and  bent  her  eyes  on  a  queer  individual  who  had 
related  some  wonderful  things  he  had  seen.  "  0,  I 
would  so  like  to  have  poor  Paul  come  back  !  " 

A  gentle  rapping  upon  the  old  chest  in  the  corner 
attracted  their  attention,  and  the  whole  of  them  immedi- 
ately surrounded  it. 

"If  it's  Paul's  apprehension,"  said  Mrs.  Partington, 
"  I  know  he  '11  answer  me.  Paul,  is  that  you  ?  " 

Knock. 

"Just  like  him,"  said  she,  smiling,  "when  he  was 
living  ;  he  was  always  tapping  when  we  had  anything  in 
the  house  to  tap,  didn't  you,  Paul?" 

Knock. 

"  Can't  you  speak  to  me  1  " 

Knock. 

"  Does  that  mean  yes  or  no  1  '' 

Knock. 

"  Which  does  it  mean  ?  " 

Knock. 

Some  of  the  party  suggested  that  the  alphabet  should 
be  called,  which  was  done. 

"  Are  you  in  want  of  anything  1  "  said  she. 

Knock. 

"What  ia  il;?" 


348         II US.    PARTINGTON    CONFERS    WITH   PAUL. 

And  the  anxious  spectators,  through  the  medium  of 
tiie  alphabet,  spelled  out  "S-i-d-u-r." 

"  It  is  Paul ! "  cried  the  old  lady,  delightedly ;  "that's 
the  "way  he  always  spelled  it.  Do  you  want  me  to  come 
to  you,  Paul?" 

The  answer  came  back,  "No,  I'm  in  better  com- 
pany ! " 

The  old  lady  turned  away  mournfully.  There  was 
sorrow  in  the  wavy  lock  of  gray  that  straggled  beneath 
her  cap  border,  —  there  was  a  quaver  of  grief  in  the  tone 
that  inquired  for  the  scissors,  —  there  was  a  misty  vapor 
upon  her  specs,  like  the  dew  upon  the  leaves  after  a  rain, 
—  the  cap-border,  like  a  flag  at  half-mast,  trailed  in  woe 
over  the  ruin  of  disappointed  affection.  At  that  instant 
the  cover  of  the  chest  opened,  and  the  head  of  Ike,  pro- 
truding, disclosed  the  secret  of  the  knockings. 

"Ah,  you  rogue!"  said  she,  a  smile  dispelling  all 
evidence  of  disorder,  "Ah,  you  rogue !  was  it  you?  You  '11 
never  be  a  good  spirit  as  long  as  you  live,  I  'm  afraid,  if 
you  go  on  so.  But  I  knowed  it  wasn't  Paul !  " 

There  was  triumph  in  her  tone,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a 
whole  basket  full  of  sunshine  had  been  upset  in  that 
room,  it  was  so  pleasant;  all  the  rest  of  the  evening. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON    AT   THE    PLAY.  349 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  AT  THE  PLAY. 

"  THE  play-house  is  the  '  way  to  the  pit !  '  "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  solemnly,  and  pointing  significantly  down- 
ward. 

"But,"  remonstrated  a  friend,  who  had  asked  her  to 
visit  the  Museum  with  him,  '-there  is  no  pit  in  this 
theatre,  and  the  way  to  the  pit  is  removed." 

She  looked  earnestly  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  said 
she  would  go.  The  play  was  the  "  Stranger,"  and  she 
was  much  interested  in  it. 

"Why  don't  he  make  it  up  with  her?  "  she  inquired. 
"  What  ;s  the  sense  of  being  ugly  when  she 's  so  contri- 
cious  for  what  she  had  done,  I  should  like  to  know  ?  I 
think  it  shows  a  bad  temper  in  him  ;  and  the  dear  chil- 
dren, too,  coming  in  like  little  cherubs,  to  make  'em 
forget  all  old  troubles  and  follies  !  We  had  n't  ought  to 
dwell  so  upon  old  grievousness,  because  we  are  all  liable 
creturs.  How  I  do  pity  her  !  " 

And  the  old  lady  wept  copiously.  She  would  n't  leave 
the  house  till  she  ascertained  from  the  policeman  whether 
old  Tobias  got  back  his  son  that  had  'listed,  for  he  looked 
but  feeble,  she  said,  when  he  went  away,  and  the  great 
grief  and  the  long  pole  the  old  gentleman  carried  for  a 
cane  must  have  broken  him  down. 

30 


350         BREACHES  OF  FAITH  —  A  QUEER  CONCEIT. 


BREACHES   OF   FAITH. 

"BREECHES  of  faith  !  "  screamed  Mrs.  Partington,  as 
she  heard  that  term  applied  to  Mexican  violations  of  an 
armistice.  "  Well,  I  wonder  what  they  will  have  next. 
I  have  hearn  tell  of  cloaks  of  hypocrisy,  and  robes  of 
purity,  but  I  never  heard  of  breeches  of  faith  before.  I 
hope  they  're  made  of  something  that  won't  change'  and 
wear  out,  as  old  Deacon  Gudgins'  faith  did,  for  his 
was  always  changing.  He  went  from  believing  that 
nobody  would  be  saved,  to  believing  that  all  would  be, 
and  at  last  turned  out  a  phrenologer,  and  did  n't  believe 
in  nothing  !  I  wonder  if  it 's  as  strong  as  cassimere  ?  " 

And  she  bit  off  her  thread  and  prepared  a  new  needle- 
full. 


A  dUEER  CONCEIT. 

"  WHY  don't  they  make  these  tragedies  turn  out  dif- 
ferent?" said  Mrs.  Partington,  after  seeing  Virginius 
performed.  "I  think  they  might  end  them  with  a 
dance ;  and  all  that  are  killed  should  take  a  part  in  it, 
just  to  show  folks  that  they  're  alive.  This,  now,  was 
too  savage ;  and  when  Mr.  Virginius  got  the  other  gen- 
tleman by  the  throat,  I  looked  round  for  the  police,  to 
see  if  he  would  part  them,  and  there  he  was  enjoying  it 
as  well  as  the  rest  of  'em.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
he  is  there  for,  if  it  a'n't  to  keep  the  peace." 

And  the  old  lady  was  tucked  up  for  the  night. 


MRS.  PARTITION    ON    COLPORTERS.  351 


MRS.  P1RTINGTON  ON   COLPORTERS. 

"So,  they've  took  our  minister  and  made  a  coal- 
porter  of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Partington  to  her  neighbor, 
Mrs.  Sled.  "I  suppose  they 're  going  to  set  him  to 
work  carrying  all  the  coal  in  the  parish,  and  so  take  the 
bread  out  of  the  pockets  of  the  foreigners  and  Irishmen, 
poor  creturs,  that  do  it  now.  He  preached  last  Sunday 
on  mortifying  the  flesh ;  but  when  he  gets  to  carrying  the 
baskets,  I  think  he  will  look  like  one  mortified  all 
over." 

She  smiled  at  the  conceit,  and  then  turned  to  see 
what  David  said  on  the  subject,  and  what  analogy  there 
was  between  "hewing  of  wood,  and  drawing  of  water." 
and  coal-portering ;  but  dropped  the  search  on  a  sum- 
mons to  tea. 

"  No  matter,"  said  she,  "  it  won't  hurt  him  any,  and 
my  dear  Paul  used  to  say  that  everything  honest  was 
honorable,  and  that  black  coat  of  his'n  won't  show  the 
coal-dust  at  all." 


352 


FOURTH    OF  JULY. 


FOURTH   OF   JULY. 

SAAC  !  "  said  Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  rapping  on  the 
window,  as  she  saw  the 
boy  in  the  act  of  putting 
half  a  bunch  of  crackers 
into  the  pocket  of  a  coun- 
tryman who  stood  view- 
ing the  procession.  The 
caution  came  too  late, 
and  the  individual  was 
astonished  !  Isaac  had 
stepped  inside  the  door 
to  await  the  explosion. 

and  the  old  lady  met  him  in  the  entry.  "  0,  you  spirit 
of  mischief!  "  cried  she,  "what  will  become  of  you  if  you 
go  on  in  this  way  1  Is  this  all  your  idees  of  liberty  and 
regeneration,  that  you  must  fill  that  poor  man's  pockets 
with  your  crackers  ?  Do  you  suppose  this  was  all  that 
the  days  of  7  by  6  was  made  for  ?  I  should  think  you 
would  be  ashamed  to  look  upon  your  Uncle  Paul's  picter 
there,  and  hide  your  face  in  conclusion,  arter  behaving 
so!  Ah!"  she  mused,  "how  different  boys  are  now 
from  what  they  used  to  be  !  —  so  wild,  so  rakeless  and 
tricky"  —  (crack !)  —  "  what 's  that  ?  I  should  like  to 
know  who  fired  that.  It  was  &,  great  piece  of  impu- 
dence" —  (crack  !)  —  "  goodness  gracious  !  somebody 


SEEING    THE    FIREWORKS.  853 

must  be  throwin'  'em  into  the  windows."  She  ran  to 
look  out.  Not  a  soul  was  near  that  could  have  done  it. 
Crack !  another  explosion  at  her  feet,  and  she  looked 
round.  Isaac  sat  demurely  eating  some  gingerbread  by 
the  table,  but  said  nothing.  There  was  an  expression 
about  his  mouth  which  looked  torpedoish,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment she  mistrusted  him;  but  he  couldn't  have  done  it, 
he  was  so  quiet,  and  she  shut  the  window  that  opened 
upon  the  street,  to  prevent  their  throwing  in  any  more. 


SEEING  THE    FIREWORKS. 

11  0,  DEAR  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  stretching  her- 
self on  her  toes  to  get  a  better  look  at  the  fireworks.  "  I 
always  wish  I  was  seven  foot  tall  at  times  like  this." 

"  And  I  wish  I  was  nine  foot,"  said  the  little  woman 
before  her,  spitefully. 

"  How  I  hate  to  see  people  so  selfish  !  don't  you,  Mrs. 
Brown  ?"  whispered  Mrs.  Partington  to  her  neighbor. 
"There — there  —  they  are  touching  off  the  volcano,  I 
vow  !  "  said  Mrs.  P. ;  "  now  look  and  see  if  the  burning 
lather  runs  down  the  hill  this  way  !  " 

And  the  old  lady  looked  anxiously  toward  the  Park. 

30* 


354         MRS.  PARTINQTON  AND  THE  TELEGRAPH. 


THE  TELEGRAPH. 

MRS.  PARTING  TON  is  much  prejudiced  against  the 
magnetic  telegraph,  and  takes  an  entirely  new  ground  in 
her  opposition  to  it. 

"  You  may  send  your  letters  on  it,"  said  she  to  the 
philosopher,  "if  you're  a  mind  to;  but  I  shan't  trust 
one  of  mine  on  it  while  people  can  cut  it  off  before  it  gets 
there,  and  let  the  whole  world  into  family  secrets.  And 
how  presumptuous  it  is,  too,  for  men  to  draw  heaven's 
blessed  lightning  down  and  set  it  a  dancing  on  a  tight  wire, 
like  a  very  circuit-rider  !  It 's  absolute  blasphemy,  and 
outrage  on  the  highway,  and  agin  all  natur  and  scriptur." 

And  she  turned  to  the  books  to  find  an  appropriate 
text,  but  changed  the  subject  by  commencing  a  discus- 
sion with  her  niece  on  the  relative  merits  of  ball  yarn 
and  skein,  and,  taking  her  sides,  she  went  on  like  a 
jolly  old  wheelbarrow. 


LET  none  be  vain  of  imagined  superiority  over  their 
brother  men;  for  whatever  advantage  may  be  fancied  in 
one  respect,  in  another  there  may  be  a  deficiency.  The 
man  who  has  law  and  divinity  at  his  fingers'  ends,  in  the 
lore  of  horse-flesh  may  be  instructed  by  his  stable-boy  ; 
and  she  who  speaks  Italian  and  embroiders,  can,  perhaps, 
take  lessons  in  yarn-stockings  from  Mrs.  Partington. 
Franklin,  who  could  draw  the  lightning  from  heaven, 
made  a  poor  hand  at  tending  a  baby. 


A      C   II  11  1  si  T  M   AS       S  T  O  R  1 


A    STOKY   FOR   CHRISTMAS.  355 


A   STORY  FOR   CHRISTMAS. 

IT  was  with  a  clouded  brow  and  an  angry  eye  that 
young  Frank  Harlowe  stood  looking  upon  his  father's 
face,  and  hearkening  to  his  words,  as  he  violently  rebuked 
him.  The  flush  upon  the  old  man's  cheek  betokened  the 
tempest  that  raged  within  his  breast,  and  his  raised  and 
clenched  hand  descended  in  fearful  emphasis  as  he  uttered 
the  words  —  "  Obey  me,  or,  by  Heaven,  you  leave  my 
house  forever  !  " 

Mr.  Harlowe,  the  father  of  Frank,  was  one  of  those 
unfortunate  men,  whose  impulses  are  stronger  than  their 
powers  of  resistance.  His  passion  once  aroused,  reason, 
affection,  common  kindness  were  forgotten  in  the  storm 
that  held  him  in  mastery.  The  hasty  and  severe  word 
that  conveys  such  bitterness  in  its  utterance,  in  his  moods 
of  temper  was  always  ready,  and  the  hasty  blow  fell 
upon  his  children  with  cruel  violence,  at  the  least  provo- 
cation. Correction  they  never  received.  It  was  the 
vindictive  visitation  of  an  avenger  of  wrong  rather  than 
the  chastisement  of  a  parent. 

At  heart  Mr.  Harlowe  was  a  kind  man,  and  oftentimes 
and  bitterly,  when  the  storm  had  blown  by,  and  his 
mind  was  calm  again,  did  he  repent  with  a  sincere  re- 
pentance the  evil  he  had  done,  of  which  he  was  fully 
sensible.  Benevolent,  intelligent,  noble-spirited,  self- 
sacrificing,  as  occasion  called  for  action,  he  had  won 
himself  a  name  for  probity  and  usefulness  that  was 


£.">(;  A    STORY    FOR    CHRISTMAS. 

enviable,  and,  but  for  the  turbulence  of  temper  above 
described,  few  finer  men  could  be  found.  This  weakness 
was  his  besetting  sin,  his  temptation,  and  his  will  was 
insufficient  to  resist  it. 

Frank  Harlowe,  his  youngest  son  and  favorite,  was 
his  counterpart  in  body  and  mind.  Handsome,  intelli- 
gent and  witty,  at  seventeen  he  was  the  favorite  of  all 
in  the  village  in  which  he  lived.  His  generosity  was 
unbounded,  and  the  tendrils  of  his  youthful  nature  shot 
forth  and  strengthened  in  the  fertile  soil  of  congeniality. 
At  social  gatherings  he  was  the  crowning  spirit.  His 
voice  rang  merriest  at  the  harvest  home,  his  story  elicited 
the  warmest  plaudits  at  the  husking-frolic,  and  in  the  old 
woods  his  song  echoed  through  its  sombre  arches  with 
the  joyousness  of  unrestricted  freedom.  No  jealous 
rivalry  stood  in  the  way  of  his  supremacy ;  young  and 
old  admitted  his  claim  to  the  distinction,  and  the.  smile 
of  beauty  —  the  rustic  rose  of  rural  artlessness  — 
beamed  for  him  with  constant  and  kindly  glow. 

Such  was  Frank  Harlowe  in  his  social  intercourse, 
petted  and  happy  in  the  genial  flow  of  his  unembittered 
enjoyment;  but  at  home  he  was  a  different  being. 
The  contrast  between  the  sphere  of  home  and  that  of 
neighborhood  was  too  marked.  The  reverence  due  pa- 
rental authority  was  too  little  excited  by  parental  love. 
Disobedience  to  imperious  command  was  followed  by 
violence  of  invective  or  blows,  and  his  high  spirit  revolted 
at  the  irksomeness  of  domestic  oppression.  His  two  elder 
brothers  had  no  sympathy  with  him.  They  were  plod- 
ding and  matter-of-fact  men.  Taking  from  their  mother 
a  more  passive  and  quiescent  nature  than  his  own,  they 


A    STORY   FOR   CHRISTMAS.  6O  i 

grubbed  along  the  way  of  life,  like  the  oxen  they 
drove,  that  knew  no  joy  beyond  the  herbage  they 
cropped,  having  no  aspiration  beyond  the  bound  of  their 
enclosure.  Content  with  old  routines,  no  new  hope 
obtruded  upon  their  ruminations.  They  frowned  upon 
the  bold  boy,  whose  spirit  and  brilliancy  cast  a  reproach 
upon  their  lethargy,  and  they  rejoiced  when  tne  reproof 
came  to  curb  his  ambition.  Home  was  no  longer  home 
to  him ;  the  ties  of  consanguinity  were  to  him  iron  bonds 
from  whose  release  he  would  pray  to  be  freed ;  his  moth- 
er's love  alone  sanctified  the  existence  he  led,  —  it  was 
the  one  solitary  star  in  his  night  of  domestic  gloom. 

His  aifections,  thus  turned  from  the  home  circle,  had 
concentrated  upon  one,  the  fairest  of  the  village,  but 
whose  coquettish  predilections  had  rendered  her  obnox- 
ious to  censure,  and  her  fame  having  reached  his  father, 
the  knowledge  of  Frank's  attachment  for  her  had  pro- 
voked a  discussion,  the  result  of  which  was  the  imperative 
command  with  which  my  story  commences,  a  command 
that  he  must  renounce  her  forever. 

The  boy  stood  gazing  upon  his  father,  with  a  flashing 
eye  and  a  swelling  breast,  as  he  spoke.  Feelings  too 
powerful  for  utterance  were  depicted  in  the  look  he 
gave,  and  he  left  the  room  with  an  expression  of  bitter 
rage. 

The  next  morning  there  was  confusion  in  Mr.  Har- 
lowe's  house.  Frank  had  fled,  no  one  knew  whither, 
and  the  circle,  whose  union  was  so  illy  cemented,  was 
broken.  A  letter  in  the  village  post-office  explained  the 
reason.  It  read  as  follows  :  — 


858  A  STORY   FOE   CHRISTMAS. 

"  Dear  Mother,  — It  grieves  me  to  bid  you  farewell, 
but  longer  sufferance  from  father's  tyrannical  usage  is 
impossible  I  go  to  seek  my  fortune,  and  when  we  meet 
again  may  it  be  when  he  and  I  shall  have  learned  a 
lesson  from  our  separation,  and  the  alienation  of  father 
and  child  may  be  forgotten  in  the  renewed  intercourse 
of  man  and  man.  Farewell,  mother,  and  may  you  be 
more  happy  than  I  should  have  been  able  to  make  you 
had  I  lived  with  you  a  thousand  years.  Farewell.  Re- 
member sometimes  your  poor  boy,  FRANK." 

The  letter  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  that  household, 
so  unprepared  for  such  an  event,  and  deep  contrition 
wrung  the  erring  father's  heart,  who  saw  too  late  the 
evil  he  had  wrought.  The  spirited  boy  had  been  his 
favorite,  so  like  him  was  he  in  form  and  mind.  He  remem- 
bered that  no  word  spoken  to  him  in  kindness  had 
been  unheeded.  He  heard  his  praise  in  every  mouth, 
admitted  the  justness  of  the  meed  that  was  awarded  him, 
and  every  word  and  every  thought  was  a  dagger  to  his 
soul  in  view  of  the  ruin  he  had  caused.  Then,  for  the 
first  time,  he  felt  the  weight  of  the  responsibility  that 
rested  upon  him  as  a  parent,  and  trembled  as  he  re- 
flected how  far  he  might  be  instrumental  in  his  son's 
eternal  doom.  Too  late  carne  penitence  for  the  past,  but 
he  vowed  reform  for  the  future,  and  prayed  for  strength 
to  fulfil  his  vow. 

A  change  came  over  the  man  and  his  home.  The 
mould  of  years  and  care  mingled  with  the  raven  hues  of 
youth,  for  years  had  passed  and  no  line  of  remembrance 


A    STOKY    FOR   CHRISTMAS.  359 

had  come  from  the  absent  boy.  The  brothers  had  mar- 
ried, and  had  children,  and  the  old  homestead  was  glad 
with  the  music  of  childish  laughter,  and  a  sad  happiness 
smiled  upon  the  lives  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harlowe.  The 
mother  had  mourned  for  her  child,  and  his  remembrance 
often  came  to  her  in  the  voices  of  her  grandchildren,  and 
in  the  sweet  reminiscences  which  solitude  brought.  The 
hope  of  seeing  him  had  long  died  out  in  her  breast ;  for 
twelve  weary  years  had  elapsed  since  he  went  away. 

The  village  had  changed.  The  young  and  joyous 
companions  of  Frank  had  turned  into  grave  family  men. 
or  had  moved  to  strange  cities,  and  become  the  devotees 
of  the  money-god,  or  worshipped  Fame  in  high  places. 
The  maids  with  whom  he  had  sported  had  lost  their 
smiles  in  the  matronly  cares  of  life,  or  had  transferred 
them  to  their  children,  upon  whom  they  bloomed  again. 
The  coquette  of  Frank's  old  idolatry  had  years  before  given 
place  to  younger  rivals,  and  mourned  her  faded  charms 
in  singleness  of  state.  The  village  had  become  populous, 
and  new  steeples  gleamed  above  the  trees  in  the  sunlight, 
and  new  streets  and  houses  marked  the  steps  of  progress. 
A  railroad  whistle  greeted  the  morning  sun  instead  of  the 
song  of  birds  as  of  old,  and  the  quiet  of  village  life  had 
been  usurped  by  the  confusion  of  city  habits. 

Frank  was  forgotten  in  the  march  of  present  excite- 
ment, or  only  remembered  as  a  pleasant  dream. 

It  was  Christmas  night  in  the  year  of  grace  '50,  and 
a  pleasant  party  had  met  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Harlowe, 
to  celebrate  the  birthday  anniversary  of  his  eldest  grand- 
son. The  wind  howled  around  the  old  mansion-house, 
and  growled  down  the  spacious  chimney,  as  if  threaten- 


860  A    STOEY    FOR    CHRISTMAS. 

ing  the  elements  of  geniality,  that  reigned  below,  with  a 
submerging  visit.  The  snow  rattled  against  the  windows, 
red  with  indoor  light,  and  piled  itself  in  little  heaps  upon 
the  sills.  But  all  was  unheeded  by  the  party  within, 
and  the  wind  and  snow  were  unheard  amid  the  music  of 
mirth.  The  song  was  trilled  from  pretty  lips,  and  manly 
voices  joined  in  a  chorus  of  praise  to  the  festive  season, 
when  a  loud  knock  of  the  ancient  brazen  lion  upon  the 
door  arrested  every  attention.  The  sound  reverberated 
along  the  old  entry,  and  up  the  broad  stairway,  and 
through  the  large  and  airy  rooms,  with  remarkable  free- 
dom for  such  an  intruder,  at  such  a  time.  The  timid 
shrunk  at  the  sound,  as  from  a  boding  of  evil,  and  anx- 
iety marked  every  face.  The  door  was  opened,  and  a 
female  form  was  ushered  in,  in  whose  scant  and  ragged 
habiliments  poverty  was  but  too  plainly  read,  and  in  the 
bronzed  and  wrinkled  face,  revealed  by  the  removal  of 
a  red  hood,  were  seen  the  traces  of  want  and  exposure. 
Her  keen,  black  eye,  as  she  entered,  surveyed  the  scene, 
and  her  bronzed  complexion  glowed  ruddily  in  the  fire- 
light. 

"Good  people,"  she  said,  in  a  cracked  and  tuneless 
voice,  that  made  the  flesh  of  her  hearers  creep  at  its 
sound,  "I  am  weary  and  hungry, — give  me  of  your 
bounty,  in  the  name  of  Him  who  upon  this  day  took 
upon  himself  the  condition  of  man.  I  am  weary,  — I 
am  hungry." 

An  appeal  thus  made  could  not  be  resisted,  and  the 
best  the  house  afforded  was  provided  for  the  poor 
stranger.  The  voracity  with  which  she  ate  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  circle,  fully  attesting  her  famished  con- 


A    STORY    FOR    CHRISTMAS.  361 

dition;  and  a  glance  at  her  apparel  confirmed  the  im- 
pression of  want  and  distress,  and  mercy  conquered  the 
disgust  which  her  presence  had  at  first  occasioned.  Her 
feet  protruded  through  her  travel-worn  shoes,  and  the 
snow  melted  from  their  soles  and  ran  down  upon  the 
sanded  floor. 

As  soon  as  her  hunger  was  appeased,  she  turned  to 
depart,  but  the  voice  of  Mr.  Harlowe  asked  her  to  re- 
main, and,  in  sympathetic  tones,  reminded  her  of  the 
inclemency  of  the  night. 

The  woman  expressed  her  thanks  gracefully,  and  seated 
herself  by  the  fireside.  The  sport  went  on,  noisily  and 
happily,  when  it  became  whispered  that  the  old  dame 
was  one  of  those  weird  people  who  tell  fortunes  by  the 
stars,  or  more  ignoble  means,  and  open  to  view  the  des- 
tinies of  men  that  lay  concealed  in  the  future. 

"  Can  you  tell  fortunes,  good  woman?  "  asked  one  of 
the  youngest  and  boldest. 

"I  have  travelled  far,"  replied  the  beldame;  "and  I 
have  learned  strange  arts  in  my  wanderings.  The 
heavens  are  open  to  my  gaze,  and  the  stars,  where  the 
mysteries  of  fate  are  hid,  are  as  the  printed  page.  The 
human  palm  is  to  me  a  key  to  character.  Who  will  test 
my  power?" 

One  by  one  did  the  company  pass  before  her,  and  the 
prescience  she  displayed  was  most  marvellous.  The  lines 
of  the  hand  seemed  pregnant  with  meaning,  and  the  past 
life  of  each  individual  was  read  with  an  accuracy  that 
gave  importance  to  her  predictions  for  the  future.  Scenes 
were  recalled  to  many  that  had  long  been  forgotten. — 
loves  that  had  been  disappointed,  hopes  that  had  been 
31 


S62  A    STORY   FOR    CHRISTMAS. 

destroyed,  prospects  that  had  been  blasted,  and  many  a 
tear  was  shed  at  the  recollection  of  some  old  grief  re- 
vealed by  the  power  of  that  singular  woman. 

At  length  Mr.  Harlowe  presented  his  hand  for  exami- 
nation. Gazing  upon  it  a  moment  intently,  with  a  voice 
choked  by  emotion,  she  said,  —  "  Here  is  violence  and 
strife ;  the  line  of  life  is  crossed  by  threads  of  bitter- 
ness and  woe,  and  the  whole  of  its  deep  course  is  marked 
by  traces  of  grief.  Tears,  tears  are  here,  and  the  lines 
of  penitence  and  anguish  of  soul  are  strangely  interwoven 
with  the  strong  lines  of  resolution.  I  see  that  a  deep 
sorrow  is  yours,  —  the  result  of  fierce  passion,  repented 
of  and  subdued.  Is  it  not  so?" 

She  fixed  her  eyes  suddenly  upon  Mr.  Harlowe's  face. 
It  Avas  pallid  as  death,  and  the  tears  stood  in  his  eye. 
"  Yes,"  answered  he,  and  trembled  as  he  spoke  ;  'f  God 
knows  my  sin,  and  God  knows  my  repentance.  Secret 
tears  have  been  my  portion  for  years;  and,  0,  what  would 
I  not  give  if  the  memory  of  my  wrong  might  be  wiped 
away  !  " 

He  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and  sobbed  in  the 
anguish  of  his  spirit,  and  Mrs.  Harlowe  wept  in  sym- 
pathy with  her  husband,  whose  deep  grief  she  had  thus 
discovered,  which  had  long  been  concealed  beneath  the 
calm  exterior  of  philosophical  resignation. 

"  Woman  !  "  he  cried  at  last,  "what  is  the  future  of 
this  picture  ?  Is  there  no  balm  in  store  for  my  wounded 
spirit?"  He  grasped  her  hand  forcibly,  as  if  he  would 
have  wrung  from  it  an  answer  to  his  question. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  with  deep  emotion,  "  there  is  a  future 
of  peace  and  happiness  in  store  for  you,  and  the  sun  of 


A   STOEY   FOR   CHRISTMAS.  368 

your  declining  years  shall  be  radiant  with  serene  splen- 
dor, and,  —  thank  God,  who  has  given  me  power  to  verify 
my  prophecy, —  "  Father  !  mother  !  behold  your  son  !  '•' 

He  threw  off  his  ragged  habiliments  as  he  spoke, 
removed  the  gray  and  matted  hair  from  his  brow,  and 
the  patches  from  his  cheeks,  and  stood  before  the  com- 
pany in  the  noble  form  —  matured  in  manly  strength 
and  beauty  —  of  Frank  Harlowe. 

There  was  a  new  joy  in  the  house  that  night  at  the 
wanderer's  return,  and  tears  and  smiles  mingled  at  the 
recital  of  his  story.  The  wide  world  he  had  travelled, 
and  he  had  learned  and  profited  by  the  lessons  it  had 
taught  him.  He  had  returned  home  rich  in  gold,  but 
he  was  richer  in  the  spirit  he  had  gained.  It  had 
become  softened  by  the  trials  it  had  suffered,  until  it  had 
brought  him  back  to  his  father's  house,  and  to  his  moth- 
er's feet. 

His  letters  home  had  failed  to  reach  their  destination, 
and,  deeming  himself  an  outcast,  he  had  at  length  refused 
to  write  at  all.  He  had  married  a  lady  of  wealth,  and 
had  become  a  denizen  of  a  far-away  city.  But  the 
thoughts  of  home  pressed  upon  him,  arid  the  smile  of  his 
mother  haunted  his  sleep  with  fond  persistence,  and  he 
longed  to  see  once  more  the  "  old,  familiar  faces"  that 
were  his  companions  in  childhood.  He  had  thus  come 
back  to  revisit  the  home  of  his  early  life.  Stopping  at 
the  hotel  he  had  made  such  inquiries  concerning  his  old 
friends  as  led  him  into  the  secret  of  their  past  lives. 
Then,  assuming  his  disguise,  he  went  to  his  father's 
house  in  the  manner  above  stated.  The  secret  of  his 
soothsaying  ability  was  thus  revealed.  The  whole  of 


364  A    STORY   FOR    CHRISTMAS. 

Christmas  night  was  occupied  with  the  story  of  Frank's 
adventures,  and  in  thanksgivings  for  the  reunion. 

The  next  summer  a  splendid  mansion  graced  the  hill 
opposite  the  old  homestead,  which  soon  became  and  is 
now  the  residence  of  Frank  Harlowe,  Esq.,  who,  retired 
from  business,  has  here  settled  down  to  enjoy  himself 
amid  the  never-forgotten  scenes  of  his  boyhood,  and  to 
endeavor  to  make  up  by  attention  to  his  parents  for  the 
long  years  he  had  failed  in  his  duty  to  them. 

Mr.  Harlowe  is  a  happy  old  man,  and  instils  it  as  a 
sacred  lesson  into  the  minds  of  his  grandchildren  to 
beware  of  cultivating  a  hasty  temper,  which  had  been  so 
full  of  misery  to  himself. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON   AMONG  THE   ANIMALS.         365 


MRS.  P.   AMONG  THE  ANIMALS. 

?OU  call  this  a  carryvan, 
don't  you?"  said  Mrs. 
Partington  at  the  me- 
nagerie.    ' '  May  be  it 
is ;  but  I  should  like 
to    know  where    the 
silks  and  other  costive 
things    are    that  we 
read  of,   which  the  carryvans  carry 
over  the   deserts   of    Sarah,  in   the 
eastern  country." 

"  The  elephant  has  them  in  his  trunk,  marm,"  replied 
the  keeper. 

"  Then  that  is  the  reason,  I  s'pose,  why  he  always 
carries  it  before  him,  so  he  can  have  an  eye  on  it.     But 
what  is  this  animal  with  a  large  wart  on  his  nose?  " 
"  That  is  the  gnu,  marm." 

"  Mercy  on  me  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  P.,  "  this  must  be 
one  of  them  foreign  news  that  the  steamer  brings  over. 
They  feed  'em,  I  dare  say,  on  potatoes  and  vegetables, 
and  that  is  why  breadstuff's  and  flour  are  so  awful  dear 
most  always  after  they  arrive  !  "  and  the  old  lady  left 
soon  after,  full  of  new  light,  and  admiration  for  the 
monkeys. 

31* 


366  A    LEAF   FROM    MEMORY. 


A  LEAF   FROM   MEMORY. 

As  Mrs.  Partington  stepped  from  the  steamboat,  she 
perused  the  signboard  which  requested  passengers  not  to 
leave  till  the  boat  was  secured  to  the  drop. 

"  How  different  from  my  poor  Paul !  "  murmured  she, 
as  memory  awakened  some  tiling  long  forgotten.  "  How 
different  from  my  poor  Paul !  for  he  never  would  leave 
till  the  '  drop '  was  secured  to  him.  Dear,  dear  !  it  seems 
as  if  I  could  see  him  now,  holding  to  his  lovely  lips  the 
big  quart  tumbler,  which  he  used  to  call  his  '  horn  of 
plenty ; '  and  plenty  it  was,  to  be  sure,  and  often  too 
much  for  him.  How  much  better  off  he  'd  have  been  if 
he  had  n't  taken  such  deep  importations  !  " 

And  she  passed  up  the  steamboat  wharf,  her  mind 
still  pondering  on  the  inscription  that  had  so  vividly 
recalled  the  past,  and  did  n't  even  recognize  the  minister 
as  he  bowed  his  sedate  neck  to  her. 


IT  is  often  shocking  to  perceive,  in  "  thrilling  tales 
of  the  seas,"  the  indifference  with  which  authors  tell  us 
of  the  winds  "  whistling  through  the  shrouds !  "  as  if 
such  wanton  levity  did  n't  deserve  a  rebuke. 


PEACEFUL    COGITATIONS.  367 


PEACEFUL   COGITATIONS. 

"WuEX  will  distention  and  strife  cease  among  our 
foreign  relations  1  "  said  Mrs.  Partington  with  a  sigh,  as 
she  looked  abstractedly  at  the  black  profile  on  the  wall, 
as  if  she  thought  it  could  answer  the  question.  "  When 
will  distention  cease  ?  The  peace  congress  did  n't  do  no 
good  's  I  see,  for  the  Rushins  and  Austriches  are  a 
carryin'  on  jest  as  bad  as  ever  they  did,  committin'  all 
sorts  of  outridges  and  wrongs  on  the  Hung'ry.  Heaven 
never  smiles  on  them  that  distresses  the  poor.  We 
ought  to  hold  the  Rushers  and  all  that  belongs  to  'em 
in  excrescence,  —  I  don't  know  about  hating  the  Rushy 
Salve,  though,  because  that  ha'n't  done  us  no  harm, — 
and  f-he  Austriches,  too,  that  lives  on  nails  and  gimblets, 
that  the  wild-beast  man  told  us  about — the  onnateral 
heathen  !  Then  tlie  Frenchmen  are  all  in  a  commotion, 
and  I  should  think  they  would  be,  eatin'  frogs  and  sich 
things,  and  the  English  ministers  are-  quarrelin'  like 
'  dog's  delight.'  Where  it  will  end  I  can't  see." 

She  laid  down  the  Times  as  she  said  "I  can't  see," 
and  Ike,  who  had  been  burning  off  the  outside  pages  of 
Leavitt's  Almanac  while  she  was  speaking,  here  poked 
the  light  out,  leaving  the  room  and  the  subject  equally 
in  the  dark. 


368  HOME   MISSIONS 


HOME  MISSIONS. 

"  So  Mrs.  Brattle  has  become  a  member  of  the  Home 
Missions,"  said  Mrs.  Partington.  "Well,  I  am  rejoiced 
to  hear  it,  for  her  poor  husband's  sake ;  for,  though  I 
think  it  a  husband's  duty  to  help  about  house  some,  he 
should  n't  be  left  to  wash  and  cook  for  himself  and  chil- 
dren, and  mend  his  own  clothes,  as  poor  Brattle  has  had 
to  while  she  was  running  round.  I  hope  the  home 
missions  will  keep  her  at  home  now;"  and  the  old  lady 
stirred  her  souchong  with  animation,  as  she  made  the 
comment,  and  did  n't  see  that  Ike  was  makino-  tremen- 

'  <D 

dous  havoc  with  the  pound-cake. 


IT  is  astonishing  what  opposite  effects  will  be  produced 
by  the  same  cause.  As,  for  instance,  suppose  a  black- 
ing, whose  principal  component  is  alcohol;  its  effect, 
when  applied  to  boots,  is  apparent  in  the  cracking  of  the 
leather,  and  in  the  opening  of  fissures  admitting  the  free 
passage  of  water ;  when  applied  to  man,  in  quantity,  the 
same  fluid  has  the  effect  of  making  him  "  tight." 


OLD  ROGER  AND  THE  BOARDERS.       369 


OLD  ROGER  AND  THE  BOARDERS. 

OLD  ROGER  attempted  the  following  upon  the  board- 
ers one  morning.  They  were  all  sitting  quietly  at 
breakfast,  when,  with  a  most  provoking  smile  around  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  as  if  he  himself  fully  appreciated 
what  he  was  going  to  say,  he  asked  if  any  of  them  could 
tell  him  why  a  man  deeply  impressed  with  reverence  was 
like  a  very  hungry  one.  The  idea  of  hunger  associated 
with  the  bountiful  board  at  which  they  were  seated, 
caused  the  blood  to  rush  through  every  vein  of  the  land- 
lady's body,  to  her  face,  for  she  felt  hurt.  The  boarders 
all  said  they  didn't  know,  — 'they  couldn't  see  the  least 
resemblance. 

"Why,"  said  he,  chuckling,  "it  is  because  he  in- 
wardly feels  a  gnaw." 

They  couldn't  understand  that  he  meant  "an  awe," 
and  he  said  it  was  no  use  talking  to  men  whose  stomachs 
were  full  of  the  bounties  of  life.  This  he  said  to  pro- 
pitiate the  landlady,  who  was  all  smiles  again,  as  bright 
and  sparkling  as  the  coffee  in  his  cup,  which,  catching 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  danced  and  shimmered  on  the  wall 
overhead. 


370  BAD    TEMPERS.  —  GIVING    THANKS. 


BAD  TEMPERS. 

"  How  these  shopkeepers  will  fib  it ! "  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  with  an  expression  of  pain  on  her  venerable 
features;  "that  young  man  I  bought  these  needles  of 
said  they  were  good-tempered ;  —  only  see  how  spitefully 
this  one  has  masecrated  my  finger." 

She  held  up  the  wounded  member,  a  small  red  spot 
denoting  the  injury.  The  sewing-circle  sympathized 
with  her. 

"  It  will  feel  better,  I  dare  say,  after  it  has  done 
aching,"  continued  she,  as  she  took  the  last  stitch  in  a 
"thick  little  boy's  jacket,"  and  rolled  up  her  work  for 
the  day.  Many  a  pair  of  razeed  trousers  has  the  world 
seen  added  to  its  wealth,  and  the  world  never  knew  where 
they  came  from  —  perhaps  did  n't  care. 


GIVING  THANKS. 

"  MAT  the  Lord  make  us  thankful  for  the  critter  com- 
forts spread  out  before  us!"  said  Deacon  Haze,  over  the 
hard-boiled  beef  on  the  table. 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  will,"  says  Mrs.  Partington  to 
herself;  "but  it  seems  to  me  it  would  be  easier  to  be 
thankful  if  the  meat  was  tenderer;"  and  then,  like  a 
barefooted  boy,  she  went  cautiously  among  the  muscles. 


A    GOOD    DEAL    OF    TRUTH.  871 


A  GOOD   DEAL   OF  TRUTH. 


"  POOR  Girls'  Fair !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  as  she 
spelled  out  the  inscription  upon  a  flag  that  swung  across 
Washington  street,  her  eyes  dimming  with  the  vapors 
that  arose  from  her  warm  heart;  "Poor  girls'  fare! 
indeed  they  do,  and  fare  hard,  too,  God  help  'em,  many 
of  'em,  —  fare  hard  with  them  that  should  treat  'em 
better,  trying  to  rise  till  all  their  risible  powers  is  gone, 
and  they  are  shipracked  and  cast  away  and  driv  to  mak- 
ing trowsis  and  shirts  for  a  living,  and  die  on  it.  I  do 
pity  'em." 

A  melancholy  tone  pervaded  her  speech  and  thoughts 
the  rest  of  the  day ;  her  snuff,  the  choicest  maccaboy, 
bore  a  taint  of  wormwood  and  rue ;  her  tea  was  salt,  as 
if  tears  were  an  ingredient  in  its  composition  ;  her  specs 
revealed  red  eyes  in  every  visitor,  and  the  faces  of  thr* 
"poor  girls  "  looked  out  at  her  from  the  teapot  and  tho 
sugar-bowl,  the  lamp,  and  the  little  scrap-box  on  the 
work-table.  Bless  her  kind  heart ! 


THERE  is  a  Avide  difference  between  the  throes  of  an 
expiring  Titan  and  the  throws  of  a  straggling  tight  un. 


372  POLITICAL    EXTRAVAGANCE   REBUKED. 


POLITICAL    EXTRAVAGANCE    RE- 
BUKED. 

"  I  DON'T  blame  people  for  complaining  about  the 
extravagance  and  costiveness  of  government,"  said  Mrs. 
Partington,  as  she  was  reading  an  ardent  appeal  to  the 
people  in  a  political  newspaper.  She  always  took  an 
interest  in  politics  after  Paul  was  defeated  one  year  as  a 
candidate  for  inspector.  "I  don't  blame  'em  a  mite. 
Here  they  are  now,  going  to  canvassing  the  state,  as  if 
the  airth  was  n't  good  enough  for  'em  to  walk  on.  I 
wonder  why  they  don't  get  ile-cloth  or  Kidminister,  and 
done  with  it." 

"  And  I  heard  yesterday,"  said  Ike,  putting  his  small 
oar  in,  "  that  some  of  'em  was  going  to  scour  the  country 
to  get  voters." 

"  Well,"  continued  she,  "  that  would  be  better  than 
throwing  dust  in  the  people's  eyes,  as  they  say  some  of 
'em  do.  Canvassing  the  state,  indeed  !  " 

She  fell  into  an  abstraction  on  the  schemes  of  poli- 
ticians, and  took  seven  pinches  of  snuff,  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, to  aid  her  deliberations. 


SLEIGH- It  ID  ING 


373 


SLEIGH-RIDING. 


1  s  the  last  paving-stone  hides 
itself  beneath  the  descend- 
ing snow,  the  jingle  of  the 
bells  informs  us  that  sleigh- 
ing 's  come,  and  from  that 
minute  riding  on  runners  becomes  a  mania.  Every  young 
head,  and  some  pretty  old  heads,  are  full  of  expedients 
for  fun.  Boys  hunt  up  their  sleds  and  dash  out  of  doors, 
to  the  terror  of  nervous  mammas,  who  prophesy  disaster 
dire  for  their  progeny.  The  old  sleighs  and  new  sleighs, 
the  big  sleighs  and  little  sleighs,  are  put  in  requisition, 
and  the  streets  are  full  of  the  "  music  of  the  bells,  bells, 
bells  !  "  All  the  day  long  their  silvery  notes  are  sound- 
ing in  our  ears,  and  late  o'  nights  staid  citizens  who  are 
staying  at  home  are  disturbed  by  the  frantic  yells  of 
returning  sleigh-parties,  mingling  with  the  noise  of  bells, 
making  the  hour  hideous;  or  the  sound  of  voices  in 
cheerful  song  making  melody  with  the  tintinabulous 
accompaniment.  We  like  to  hear  this  last;  we  gladly 

32 


374  SLEIGH-RIDING. 

listen  to  its  approach  as  we  snuggle  beneath  the  blankets 
in  the  watches  of  the  night,  and  distinguish  the  chord  of 
male  and  female  voices  in  some  familiar  strain,  and  are 
almost  sorry  to  hear  it  melt  away  upon  the  midnight  air, 
in  distance,  like  voices  heard  in  dreams. 

There  used  to  be  great  sport  to  us  in  sleighing, 
though  we  never  were  sanguinary ;  but  time  has  tem- 
pered us  by  matters  of  graver  import.  We  can  indulge 
now  in  little  beside  our  daily  omnibus  rides,  and  can 
hardly  realize  in  these  the  buoyancy  of  old  enthusiasm. 
We  watch  for  the  appearance  of  our  domicil,  coming  to 
meet  us,  and  pull  the  check-string  at  our  door,  careful 
not  to  go  a  step  beyond,  so  little  do  we  feel  now  about 
riding.  But  in  the  old  time — Jehu  !  how  our  heart 
leaped  to  the  music  of  the  bells  !  how  quickly  our  pulse 
throbbed  to  the  maddening  impulse  of  the  moment  as  we 
—  quiet  and  sedate  though  we  now  are  —  flew  over  the 
slippery  road.  Hi-yah  !  hi-yah  !  hi-yah  !  —  how  we 
dashed  on  our  course,  leaving  house  and  tree  and  mile- 
stone behind  us  !  We  knew  no  greater  speed  than  this, 
for  it  was  ante-railroad  time,  and  the  "  iron-horse"  — 
we  think  some  one  has  given  it  this  name  before  —  had 
not  then  "  annihilated  space,"  as  we  believe  somebody 
has  said.  We  loved  to  feel  the  cool  air  revel  upon  our 
cheek  and  whistle  among  our  hair,  and,  as  it  came  up 
from  over  the  smoothly  frozen  ponds,  with  stinging  force, 
we  laughed  at  its  violence  in  the  glow  of  excitement. 
The  hoar-frost  gleamed  upon  hair,  and  eyelash,  and  fur 
collar,  and  our  breath  streamed  away  behind  us  on  the 
cold  air,  like  steam.  Hi-yah !  hi-yah !  hi-yah !  wo 


SLEIGH-RIDING.  375 

cried.  The  old  pine-woods  echoed  the  eldritch  scream, 
and  people  in  distant  cottages  caught  the  sound,  and 
listened  to  the  unusual  strain,  and  the  wood-choppers 
ceased  from  their  labors  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  fleeting 
fiends  that  awakened  such  strange  echoes.  Then  a  stop 
at  "  mine  inn,"  and  the  old-fashioned  "suthin'  hot"> — 
we  took  mulled  cider,  of  course  —  made  all  right  for  the 
return,  and  a  ride  by  starlight  closed  the  day's  joy.  It 
was  joy  then.  It  was  long  before  we  knew  Mrs.  Part- 
ington  and  Ike,  and  the  perplexity  of  types. 

Ghosts  of  big  sleighs  come  up  before  us,  brimfull  of 
happy  people  nestled  beneath  the  buffaloes,  and  hats 
and  hoods  occupy  alternate  positions  throughout  the 
party.  Pleasant  voices  come  back  to  us,  and  the  "  old 
familiar  faces"  renew  themselves  to  us.  Delightful! 
But  as  memory  recalls  the  happy  scene,  the  thought  of  a 
fair  form  and  face,  the  brightest  of  the  group,  flits  like  a 
spirit  across  our  mind,  leaving  behind  a  shadow  of  sorrow 
and  gloom.  Ah,  Maria  !  The  sweet  eye  and  voice  that 
animated  and  blessed  us  are  now  blessing  other  spheres 
—  the  music  of  that  glad  tongue  is  now  attuned  to  the 
music  of  celestial  harmonies.  There  is  no  memory  of 
joy  that  we  may  recall,  however  bright,  but  has  some 
woe  connected  intimately  with  it,  and  twinned  smiles  and 
tears  make  up  the  sum  of  the  past. 

"  Hi-yah  !  hi-yah !  hi-yah !  "  comes  up  to  our  domicil 
and  startles  us  as  we  write ;  and,  dashing  along  the  nearly 
deserted  street  —  alarming  ponderous  watchmen  on  their 
walk  —  a  sleigh  comes  furiously  by,  and  another,  and 
another,  and  the  music  of  the  bells  chimes  gratefully 


376  SLEIGH-RIDING. 

upon  our  ear.  Here  is  a  sleigh-ride  song,  that  may 
do  to  sing  some  time,  if  any  one  can  find  a  tune  to 
fit  it:  — 

Over  the  snow,  over  the  snow, 
Away  we  go,  away  we  go  ! 

The  earth  gleams  white 

'Neath  the  stars  to-night, 

And  all  is  bright 

Above  and  below. 

Old  Care  good-by,  old  Care  good-by, 
From  you  we  fly,  from  you  we  fly  — 

As  if  on  wings, 

Our  fleet  steed  springs, 

And  the  welkin  rings 
With  our  joyous  cry. 

Gay  Mirth  is  here,  gay  Mirth  is  here, 
Our  hearts  to  cheer,  our  hearts  to  cheer  ; 

While  on  we  glide, 

There  's  one  by  our  side 

To  cheer  or  to  chide, 

Who  is  always  dear. 

Over  the  snow,  over  the  snow, 
Away  we  go,  away  we  go  ! 

There 's  freedom  rare 

Abroad  in  the  air, 

Everywhere, 

Above  and  below. 


HUNK    FOR   THE    UNION.  37T 


HUNK  FOR  THE   UNION. 

u  THE  Union  dissolved  !  "  said  Mrs.  Partington,  with 
her  specs  upon  her  forehead,  and  her  finger  raised,  as  if 
admonishing  the  universe.  "Dissolve  the  Union!  and 
who  would  dare  assassinate  such  a  thing  as  that,  —  such 
an  outrage  on  the  body's  politics  1  I  thought  it  would 
come  to  this.  And  if  they  dissolve  the  Union,  which  on 
'em  will  have  the  children?  or  will  they  let  'em  grow 
up  without  nobody  to  look  arter  their  moral  training, 
poor  things?  Never  think  of  dissolving  it,  nor  breaking 
it.  '  What  God  has  joined  together  let  not  man  put  us 
under,'  and  that's  gospel  truth;  and  they  can't  do  it, 
if  we  stick  by  each  other." 

With  what  an  emphatic,  italic  jerk  the  snuff-box  came 
out,  as  she  concluded  speaking  !  The  remembrance  of 
her  felicitous  union  with  Paul  crossed  her  mind,  and  the 
remembered  pain  of  its  dissolution  mingled  with  her 
patriotic  emotion,  and  she  dropped  a  tear  as  she  uttered, 
"  What  would  our  foreign  relations  think  of  it?  "  The 
union  was  safe  from  that  day,  thenceforth  and  forever. 


MRS.  PARTINGTON  says  it  seems  to  her  a  queer  pro- 
vision of  natur  that  eggs  should  be  "  skeerce  "  when  they 
are  so  dear. 

32* 


378          LEAP    FROM    PHILANTHROPOS'    JOURNAL. 


LEAF   FROM  PHILANTHROPOS'   JOURNAL. 

MONDAY  morning,  7  A.  M.  —  Summoned  to  the  door 
when  shaving.  A  boy  after  cold  victuals.  Sorry  we  had 
none.  Ours  were  all  hot.  These  evils  come  not  as  sin- 
gle spies,  but  in  battalions.  Seven  beggar  boys  in  suc- 
cession for  cold  victuals.  Strange  that  they  should  be  so 
anxious  to  have  it  cold.  It  shows  a  corrupt  taste.  Prob- 
ably the  vitiating  effect  of  poverty. 

8  "A.  M.  —  Woman  and  child  asking  alms.     Heart  bled 
for  them.     Strong  smell  of  gin.     Persuaded  that  it  was 
a  gentle  soporific  for  child,  nothing  more.      Subject  to 
colic.     Husband  in  California  —  been  there  three  years. 
Seven   children   dependent   on  her   exertions.     Did  n't 
seem  to  exert  herself  much.     Promised  to  call  and  see 
her. 

9  A.  M.  —  Foreigner  with  a  certificate.     Fine-looking 
man.     Certificate  reads  right.     Signed  "John  Smith." 
Honest-sounding   name !    Think   I  've  heard  it  before. 
Horrible  volcano  in  Italy.     Swallowed  up  his  vineyard, 
and  threw  him  and  a  large  family  upon  the  world.     Heav- 
en help  him  !     Can't  speak  a  word  of  English.     Told  me 
so  himself.     Felt  strongly  inclined  to  aid  him.     Will 
hand  his  name  to  the  Wandering  Samaritan  Society. 

10  A.  M.  — Dressed  to  go  out.     Gentleman,  a  stranger, 
asked  me  if  I  had  a  ninepence  in  my  pocket,  and  if  I 
would  loan  it  to  him  to  procure  a  letter  from  the  post- 
office.     Sorry  I  had  n't  the  precise  amount,  but  gave  him 


TRAINING    DAYS.  379 

a  dime.     Was  surprised  to  see  him  go  into  a  drinking- 
house.     Suppose  it  must  be  one  of  the  new  sub-offices. 

11  A.  M.  —  Asked  by  a  little  barefoot  boy  for  a  cent. 
Implored  me.  for  his  mother's  sake,  to  give  him  one. 
Knew  the  deceptions  of  this  kind  of  beggars,  and  refused. 
The  urchin  called  me  a  most  scandalous  name,  and  fol- 
lowed behind  me,  repeating  it,  though  several  of  my 
friends  were  in  hearing.  Gave  him  a  quarter  to  get  rid 
of  him.  Shall  never  forget  the  horrid  leer  he  gave  me. 
Great  depravity. 


TRAINING  DAYS. 

*  '   ' 

"  I  DON*T  object  to  training-days  altogether,"  said 
Mrs.  Partington  to  the  Major,  as  the  Ancient  and  Hon- 
orables  passed  her  door;  "the  dress  looks  well,  and 
the  children  likes  the  music ;  and  I  know  this  is  moral 
training,  because  the  Governor  is  there  and  his  suet,  with 
his  chateau  on  his  head  and  his  sword  by  his  side.  How 
finely  he  does  look  !  So  bold  and  portable  !  I  de- 
clare, he  looks  too  good  to  be  a  malicious  officer !" 

She  here  leaned  out  of  the  door  to  catch  a  last  view 
of  the  "corpse  "  as  it  turned  a  near  corner,  and  a  portly- 
looking  gentleman  under  a  cocked  hat  waved  his  hand  to 
her  as  the  pageant  swept  from  her  view.  Mrs.  Parting- 
ton  resumed  her  knitting,  that  had  been  disturbed  by  the 
music. 


380  LIFE  —  LIFE  —  HOAV   CURIOUS  IT   IS. 


LIFE-LIFE-HOW  CURIOUS   IT  IS. 

"  CURIOUS"  is  the  word  —  we  wouldn't  have  any 
other,  for  it  expresses  the  very  thing.  How  curious  it 
is,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  !  The  hopes  of  the 
young  are  curious — reaching  forward  into  the  future,  and 
building  castles  in  perspective  for  their  possessors,  that 
will  crumble  before  them  ere  they  arrive  at  that  gpot  in 
time  where  their  fabrics  are  located. 

How  curious  it  is,  the  first  dawning  of  love,  where  the 
young  heart  surrenders  itself  to  its  dreams  of  bliss,  illu- 
mined with  stars  and  garnished  with  moonshine  !  How 
curious  it  is,  when  matrimony  crowns  the  wishes,  and 
cares,  fancied  to  be  surmounted  by  ardent  hearts,  are 
found  to  be  but  just  commenced  !  How  curious  it  is  !  says 
the  young  mother,  as  she  spreads  upon  hers  the  tiny 
hand  of  her  babe,  and  endeavors  to  read  in  its  dim  lines 
the  fortunes  of  her  child.  Curious  indeed  Avould  such 
revealings  be,  could  she  there  read  them. 

How  curious  it  is,  the  greed  for  gain  that  marks  and 
mars  the  life  of  man,  leading  him  away  after  strange 
gods,  forgetting  all  the  object  and  good  of  life  in  a  heart- 
less chase  for  a  phantom  light,  that  leaves  him  at  last  in 
three-fold  Egyptian  darkness !  How  curious  it  is,  the 
love  of  life  that  clings  to  the  old,  and  draws  them  back 
imploringly  to  the  scenes  of  earth  —  begging  for  a  long- 
er look  at  time  and  its  frivolities,  with  eternity  and  its 
joys  within  their  reach  !  How  curious  it  is,  when  at  last 


AN   INTERESTING   FACT.  881 

the  great  end  draws  nigh  —  the  glazing  eye,  the  struggle, 
the  groan,  proclaiming  dissolution,  and  the  still  clay  that 
denotes  the  extinguishment  of  the  spark  known  as  life  ! 
How  curious  it  is,  that  the  realities  of  the  immortal  world 
should  be  based  upon  the  crumbling  ashes  of  this,  and 
that  the  path  to  infinite  light  should  lie  through  the  dark 
shadow  of  the  grave !  How  curious  it  is,  in  its  business 
and  pleasures,  its  joys  and  sorrows,  its  hopes  and  fears, 
its  temptations  and  triumphs  !  And  as  we  contemplate  life 
in  all  its  phases  we  must  exclaim  — "  How  curious  it  is  '  " 


AN   INTERESTING  FACT. 

DR.  DIGQ  and  Old  Roger  were  conversing  upon  won- 
ders in  nature,  and  the  doctor  had  given  a  long  account 
of  discoveries  he  had  made,  during  his  travels  in  the  East, 
of  intelligence  in  different  kinds  of  animals  —  the  ele- 
phant, the  ichneumon,  and  Oxford  County  bear,  being 
particularly  mentioned  for  their  sagacity.  With  regard 
to  the  last-named  description  of  animals,  he  relied  princi- 
pally upon  the  testimony  of  his  friend  Fitzwhistler,  who 
had  given  him  some  wonderful  particulars  concerning 
their  habits,  Mr.  F.  having  stated  to  him,  during  a  con- 
versation, that  the  Oxford  County  bear  has  been  known 
to  be  at  times  devotedly  attached  to  New  England  rum, 
and  to  make  no  great  scruples  about  using,  now  and  then, 
tobacco  in  its  various  forms,  which  he  considered  a  degree 
of  intelligence  very  nearly  approximating  to  the  refine- 
ment of  human  civilization,  and  surpassing  that  of  all 
other  a'nimals. 


382  NEW   PATENTS. 

Roger  admitted  the  truth  in  the  main  of  what  the 
doctor  submitted,  but  said  that  however  much  he  was  dis- 
posed to  yield  to  Fitzwhistler  and  the  doctor  in  most 
matters,  in  this  one  particular  of  superiority  he  must 
differ  from  them,  for  there  were  animals  in  his  own  State, 
New  Hampshire,  that  excelled  them  all.  The  doctor  had 
not  claimed  for  either  class  he  had  named  any  knowledge 
in  mathematics ;  but,  from  a  long  residence  in  the  Granite 
State,  he  had  found  it  generally  known  that  among  the 
serpent  family  there  were  frequently  found  great  adders. 

The  doctor,  with  that  greatness  of  mind  so  character- 
istic of  the  individual,  immediately  tendered  his  hat  to 
Roger,  who  magnanimously  placed  it  again  upon  the 
pundit's  head. 


NEW  PATENTS. 

WE  often  read,  in  Patent-office  reports,  of  patents  being 
granted  for  improvement  in  "  governors."  We  don't 
care  how  much  governors  are  improved,  and  all  efforts  in 
this  direction  will  receive  the  full  "  consent  of  the  gov- 
erned." We  have  seen,  too,  not  long  since,  that  a  patent 
has  been  given  for  an  improvement  in  "  railing."  This 
invention  must  be  of  vast  utility  in  quarrelsome  neigh- 
borhoods, where  the  quality  of  the  railing  has  long  needed 
improvement. 


SHILLABER'S    POEMS 


NOW   READY,    THE    THIRD   EDITION 


uritl)  Kcci0ou  cmft  nritl)cwt. 


By  BEN.  P.  SHILLABER 

ONE  ELEGANT  12no.  VOLUME.  3.16  rr.,  AND  A  1'ORTRAIT  OF  THE  AUTHOR,  ON 
STEEL.        PRICE  $1  00 


NOTICES    OF    THE    PRESS. 

Our  pen  sheds  ink  very  cheerfully,  in  announcing  that  Mrs.  Partington  makes 
hiT  ai>p"arance  among  the  poets  and  poetesses,  in  elegant  party  dress.  That  ig 
to  s;iv,  Mr.  Benjamin  P.  Sliilbiber,  who  has  been  the  amanuensis,  or  •' writing 
medium. "  of  the,  benevolent  and  venerable  lady,  has  given  the  public  a 
volume  of  vers-s,  entitled  "Rhvmeswith  Reason  and  without  "  Manvofthem 
have  appeared  in  the  Pott  and  the  (Jurpet  Bug.  If  a  tenth  part  ot  the  people, 
t<>  whom  th  -se  pieces  have  given  pl--a«ure  purchase  the  volume.  the  author 
will  be  properly  complimented  and  rewarded.  We  cannot,  doubt  that  Mrs. 
Partmgt'-n'a  wit  and  wisdom  will  be  bound  to  have  a  pla,w  on  every  centre 
tal'le. — B"Kton  Transcript. 

Mr.  Shillabrr  ranks  as  one  of  the  finest  writ»rs  of  the  present  time.  Asa 
poft,  eiiito-, gentleman,  and  scholar,  we  will  endorse  him  to  any  amount,  it 
will  b«  a  "card"  for  the  publisher. — Lynn  Newt. 

The  work,  we  have  i-o  doubt,  will  be  nought  after  with  great  avidity  by  the 
lovers  of  choice  and  elegant  poetry.  Mr.  Shillaber,  besides  being  a  witty  and 
racy  prose  writer,  is  a  po^t  of  much  excellence,  and,  more  than  all,  a  whole- 
he*rtedand  estimable  gentleman — Boston  Time*. 

We  confess  to  a  liking  of  the  poetry  and  the  man.  whom. we  knew  before  the 
world  knnw  his  writings.  A  retiring  man,  and  of  singular  modesty,  Mr.  S. 
would  never  have  made  his  advent  with  a  book,  save  through  the  solicitations 
of  Mends  The  poems  are  of  undoubted  merit,  and  have  received  favorable 
notices  from  the  Grit  writers  in  the  country.  Mr.  Bryant,  oi  the  Jfew- '  ork 
Ecening  P  >st,  himself  perhapx  the  first  poet  of  America,  accords  uncji  alined 
praise  to  the  "  Khyra-."  — Kenne'iec  Journal. 

Mr.  S.  is  a  favorite  with  the  public,  the  w'jol»  reading  public  ;  and  when  the 
eold  effusions  of  poets  of  greater  pretensions  lie  on  the  booksellers'  she  ves, 
the  varied  and  genuine  humor  which  marks  his  productions  will  find  their 
way  to  the  heart  of  the  public,  and  win  for  him  a  fame  such  as  he  deserves. — 
O'tve  Brunch. 

A  collection  of  the  fugitive  pieces  of  an  exce'lent-hftarted  and  intelligent 
man.  who  is  almost  world-wide  known  as  the  veritable  Mrs.  Partington  AerW/", 
who  has  created  almost  as  many  brond  grins  as  Hood,  in  his  time,  and  whose 
wit  and  humor  have  always  a  genial  character,  which  never  wounds  of  itwelf, 
hut  rather  disarms  sarcism  in  others.  These  Rhymes  are  modestly  put  forth 
by  the  author,  who  la^  s  no  claim  to  be  considered  either  a  Milton  or  a  Beran- 
ger;  and  yet  in  their  homely  modesty  their  lies  more  real  merit  than  in  many 
a  pretending  volume,  wuich  Is  landed  in  proportion,  apparently,  as  it  lacks 
merit,  and  requires  puffing  to  keep  it  from  tumMing  by  its  de«d  weight  to  the 
dull  earth  Tlieie  are  many  pieces  of  genuine  m>Tit.  which  no  one  can  read 
without  pleasure,  and  none  which  will  sink  Vo  mediocrity.  Throughout  the 
volnm-  there  are  displays  of  wit,  hum  <r,  and  pathos;  nnd  the  pieces  are  of 
8U'-h  convenient  length,  and  so  various,  that  no  one  will  ever  lay  down  the 
Ti'lnme  from  f.itigue,  as  he  would  an  epic,  but  be  sure  to  find  something  agree- 
able to  wil-  swav  pleasantly  some  leisure  momenta.— P>trei<ltnre  Post. 

Mr.  Sliillal-*'-  is  now  best  known  as  the  originator  of  that  most  glorious 
myth,  Mrs.  Partington  ;  but,  as  we  predictad  mouths  ago,  the  publication  of 
these  poems  will  place  his  title  to  fame  on  even  a  surw  footing.  He  lays  no 


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claim  to  that  finished  e'fgance  of  style  that  comes  from  the  careful  study  and 
elaborate  imitation  of  classic  mode's:  but  he  is  a  poet  such  as  Horace  speaks 
of.— one  who  -'was  b'>rn.  not  made."  The  prin'ing-office  has  beerr  his  o  ly 
college, — the  various  phases  of  human  nature,  as  Keen  in  real  life,  his  favorite 
text-book.  One  of  the  mo<t  marked  characteristics  of  his  writings  is  the  in- 
domitable g<>"d  humor  that  pervades  them  Although  he  has  all  his  life 
earned  his  bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  working  early  ami  late  to  secure  a 
bare  competence,  neither  in  his  prose  nor  in  his  verse  is  there  the  slightest 
trace  of  the  cynicism  an'  moroseness  that  a  continual  struggle  with  poverty 
is  apt  to  beget.  He  carries  a  brave,  generous,  trusting  heart  in  his  bosom,  and 
you  recognize  its  throb  in  every  line  he  writes.  —  Purtlund  E'leclic. 

We  are  glad  Mr.  ^hillalv-r  has  concluded  to  collect  his  fugitive  pieces  in  book 
form.  Some  of  the  sweetest  and  moht  pathetic,  as  Wf  11  as  many  of  the  humorous 
poetic  productions  which  have  been  "going  the  rounds"  of  ihe  newspaper  press 
for  the  last  five  years,  without  the  name  of  the  modest  author  attached,  are 
from  his  pen.  We  know  of  no  writer  who  puts  more  heart  and  soul— mnr-t 
genuine  good  feeling,  and  genial,  glowing  humor — into  his  compositions.  Hig 
poems,  in  a  handsome  volume,  must  be  popular,  appealing,  as  they  do.  directly 
to  the  sympathies  of  the  great  brotherhood  of  humanity. —  "Yankee  Blade. 

In  truth  we  know  of  few  political  compositions  of  the  day  so  well  worthy  of 
preservation  as  Mr.  Shillaher's  They  are  not  often  highly  imaginative;  they 
are  not  mystified  by  artistic  polish  ;  there  is  no  straining  for  effect  in  them  ; 
but  as  simple,  natural,  spontaneous  expressions  of  a  fin«  poetic  soul  they  have 
not  been  surpassed  by  any  modern  writer  They  are  at  times  exquisit  ly 
touching  ;  at  others,  they  glow  and  sparkle  with  the  humor,  wit  and  fun.  which 
have  given  the  author  of  Mrs  Partington's  sayings  so  wide  a  reputation. 
Rbym-  s  and  measures  gush  forth  from  his  heart,  like  crystal  rills  from  p.-bbly 
springs;  his  fancies  laugh  and  babble  between  grassy  banks,  refreshing  every 
lip  that  tastes  them.  His  poems  are  vital ;  they  give  us  new  glimpses  of  life  ; 
they  make  us  happier  and  better. —  1'rue  Flag. 

Mr  Shillaber  is  exceedingly  successful  in  comic  verse,  and  especially  so,  if 
not  so  broadly,  in  a  certain  sly  and  pleasant  mingling  of  the  grave  and  gay, 
the  satiric  and  the  kindly.  He  writes  earnestly  and  feelingly,  also,  in  the 
pathetic.  Very  many  of  the  "  Wideswarth  "  sonnets  give  the  best  idea  of  his 
peculiar  powers,  which  consist,  for  the  most  part,  in  a  quick  and  thorough 
perception  of  the  real  significance,  and  of  the  ludicrous  and  serious  aspect  of 
things,  a  lively  wit  and  a  ready  command  of  language — the  whole  being  toned 
off  with  a  generally  philosophical  ideu  of  human  life,  with  its  joys  and  sorrows. 
— Boston  Post. 

We  do  i  ot  know  when  we  have  read  a  volume  of  poems  with  so  much  pleasure 
as  this.  It  contains  not  "Rhymes"  merely,  but  much  true,  living  poetry, 
pathos,  sentiment,  vivid  description,  original  thought,  eulivened  by  the  most 
gen'al  humor.  The  creation  of  Mrs.  Partington  was  enough  to  prove  the 
author  a  man  of  rea1  wit  and  origina'  genius,  but  we  were  hardly  prepared  for 
the  varied  powers  which  this  book  exhibits,  and  especially  for  the  depth  and 
tenderness  of  feeling  displayed  in  many  of  the  pieces.  For  fine  genial  humor, 
rarely  or  never  degenerating  into  coarseness,  and  often  intermingled  and 
adorned  with  true  and  sincere  sentiment,  we  know  of  no  American  writer  that 
equals  Mr.  Shillaber.  His  wit,  we-think,  fully  equals  that  of  our  celebrated  Dr. 
Holmes;  and  in  facility  and  ease  of  versification  he  is  in  no  respect  inferior. — 
New  Hampshire  Gazette. 


SHILLABER'S       POEMS 

Can  be  ordered  through  any  Bookseller  in  the  United  States, 
or  by  remitting  the  Price  to  the  Publisher.  It  will  be 
sent  by  Mail,  Post-paid. 

J.  C.  DERBY,  PuVi<*er, 

8  PARK  PLACE,  N.  Y. 


UQ  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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